


Mad Max: Dead Valley

by Ms_Splendiferous



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), mad max - Fandom
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon Compliant, Gen, Religious Cult, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5013700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Splendiferous/pseuds/Ms_Splendiferous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Fury Road, Max has nowhere better to go and drives west. He quickly regrets his decision. Caught up in the middle of a conflict between a religious cult and the local militia, Max has to find a way out of the crossfire and out of the valley - and try to save the girl stuck in the center of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to Mad Max: Fury Road no one wanted. Or asked for. Or even thought to ask for. Woo-sha.

The sun had set, and the desert was rapidly turning cold. Frigid wind whipped across the sand. The shirt she had grabbed was so threadbare that the wind bit right through it without any hesitation. Her side burned as every movement pulled at the mangled skin. Pain stabbed through her with every step until she felt nauseous. She couldn't pay attention to it, couldn't stop. Every part of her focused entirely on running, keeping her feet moving one in front of the other. She couldn't stop no matter what.

She glanced back over her shoulder in a reflex she couldn't stop. The light from the settlement was a distant glow up against the cliffs surrounding it. She was a few miles away, but that wouldn't be enough when they found out she was gone. She had to get to the canyon before that. Once they found she was gone, Eyes would be looking for her, and the cars would eat up the distance she had made on foot. If she made it to the canyon, she might have a real chance.

The pain was bad enough to start edging into her consciousness. She faltered, missing her footing just once, and the sand gave out under her. It sent her toppling down the dune. Sand flooded her mouth and nose, scratching down her throat to her lungs. It scraped up her palms, elbows, and knees as she tried to stop herself. A nasty landing smashed her jaw, and she bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood.

The dune evened out to ground again and she rolled to a stop. Her side burned, pain digging deep, angry roots through the whole of her being. She rolled onto her hands and knees to gag and cough out mouthfuls of sand. The sound seemed to echo across the desert and cancel out the howling wind. She clapped both hands over her mouth, retching into them quietly.

Struggling up to her feet, she swiped a hand over her knees to get rid of the sand and started running again. She had to get to the canyon. Pushing the pain down to the back of her mind, she kept going. Her side burned and made her stumble and limp, but she pushed through it and took her stride back. The canyon wasn't far, and she emptied her head of all thoughts except for making it there.

The moon was still high when she reached the peak of a steep dune and the canyon came into view. It was a dark, sprawling scar breaking through the sand. She crouched to slide down the dune and avoid scraping herself up even further. Behind her,  the settlement's air raid siren started up. Cold panic dumped down her spine and adrenaline flooded her system as she looked back. The faint glow was brighter now, more lights being lit as everyone woke up.

She threw herself down the dune, scrambling to get to the bottom. As she hit it, she broke into a full sprint for the canyon. The siren's wail echoed across the flat wasteland, prickling at the back of her neck and ringing in her ears. It wasn't long before she could hear the distant roar of engines. They would catch up to her soon if she didn't reach the canyon.

Adrenaline numbed her to pain as she fled, vision narrowing into a tunnel that focused on the lip of the canyon. Some higher functioning part of her brain kicked in.  She ripped off strips of cloth from the bottom of her shirt as she ran. She didn't lose focus, even as she haphazardly bandaged up the worst of her cuts and scrapes. There was no time to stop and bandage her feet, not for a while, so she would have to rely on her hands for grip.

The engines were getting closer now, louder as they thundered across the desert. Her lungs burned as she tried to bring in enough air to keep going, keep pushing herself ever forward. The lip of the canyon finally came into view and she put on a last burst of speed to reach it. They were close. Motorcycle engines revved loudly not far behind her. They would be overtaking her in less than a minute.

Reaching the rocky edge, she fell to her knees and looked over the edge. She scanned the sheer cliff face for somewhere to start her descent. A few yards to her right was an outcropping with a few visible handholds, even in the dark. She moved to it and lowered herself over the side, searching for purchase with her toes. Her heart pounded so loud and so hard it felt like it was shaking her entire frame. It rattled her brain until she could barely think beyond a will to survive.

Looking over the edge, she could see the headlights of a scouter. She ducked down and started looking for more cracks to hold onto. The rocks were sharp and grainy under her hands, threatening to cut through her skin. If that happened, her blood would make holding on impossible and she would be as good as dead. The drop to the ground was several hundred feet and unforgiving. To make things worse, the wind was freezing cold and biting, strong enough to try and shake her loose.

Taking a deep breath, she willed her fingers not to shake and took her time finding places to grip. She was fifteen, almost twenty feet down when the engines were right over her head. She gulped in a breath of air and pressed herself to the canyon wall. The wind stung across her back like lashes, but she'd almost stopped feeling it. Men above her shouted, mostly incomprehensible over the wind, before the bikes moved on.

She started climbing down again, moving as quickly as she dared and so on edge she was sure she would throw up. Had they noticed her footprints, or had there been enough wind to cover her tracks? Did they know she was trying to scale the canyon wall? Were they going around to meet her at the bottom? Had they missed her entirely? What if one of them thought to come back and look over the edge and spotted her?

The thoughts spurred her to keep moving, keep climbing down. She didn't look and trusted her hands and feet to feel out what she could and couldn't hold onto. Her mind went into a trance. Her survival instincts took over and locked out her conscious thought. The pain in her body felt disjointed from her now. It wouldn't as soon as she stopped, or once her body couldn't take it anymore, but for now she didn't feel it at all.

She didn't even notice when the sun started to rise to her right. She hadn't noticed anything other than rocks shifting or threatening to cut her. Whenever something shifted, she gripped her sure holds and tested it. Her eyes hadn't looked at anything other than the rocks she was holding onto for the last several hours. When she finally hit the ground, it took her several seconds to finally notice. She let go of the canyon wall and stumbled back in surprise. Without having to grip onto something, her feet felt unsteady on the firm ground for a bit.

Regathering her wits, she ripped off a few more strips of her shirt to bandage her feet. The wound on her side had started to bleed through, but she couldn't let herself worry about that. She didn't have the supplies to deal with it. She didn't have the time either.

She ran through the canyon, navigating the twisting path easily. Overwhelming focus kept all concept of pain out of her mind. A few times, she heard engines overhead. Every time she ducked under an outcropping, crouching in the shadows of the rock like a lizard. Once they passed she took off again.

Bright light ahead of her, glaring powerful sunlight, and she ran right for it. Crossing out of the shadows nearly blinded her. She threw her hands up over her face and stumbled back. When her vision cleared, she peered out again.

Flat, open desert lay before her, sand bleached white from the sun. It was a great valley, one that would take several days to cross on foot. On the far side was a ridge of twisted mountains, sticking up like jagged teeth against the white of the desert. It marked the halfway point across the valley and the end of the settlement's territory . It was exactly where she wanted to go. The pain started to creep up again, and she pushed it aside. She moved down the slope to the first touch of blazing hot sand.

**Mad Max: Dead Valley**

Chapter One

“Don't get too many travellers 'round here.” Max grunted in response without looking up. Regardless his opinion on the matter – he had none – he didn't want the man to think he was interested in conversation. Even idle talk was more interaction than he wanted right now. He had his plate full with just being in a settlement and trading for some food in the first place. The old man didn't seem to notice his resistance to talking, or he ignored it for his own benefit.

“Usually just the caravans nip in from the border to trade around before goin' right back out. You must be the first unfamiliar face I've seen in, oh...bout a hundred an' twenty days I reckon.” Max grunted again. He counted out the scrap metal the man had asked for in exchange for the rations. He'd already dragged in two gallons of guzzoline. It took longer than he'd have liked. His left hand still afforded him some trouble from the crossbow bolt he'd taken.

“I thought the rest of the world had forgotten about our little valley,” the old man continued. “Don't seem to come 'round much. Don't suppose they would though. So what brings you down here stranger?” Max looked up to give the man a blank look. Silently, he scooped the scrap metal out onto the counter. The old man took the hint and put his hands up.

“All right, all right. Not a real talkative type. I'll getcha yer rations.” Max tucked the scrap bag away on his person as the trader turned to count down rations from the shelves. Usually traders kept food locked away in safes and secret hiding places. It detered scavengers and raiders from just killing them and taking their supplies. Keeping it out in the open was foolhardy at best and suicidal at worst. The old man seemed unconcerned though. It was on the tip of Max's tongue to ask, his loner nature warring with his suspicion. The loner won out in the end.

Turning back, the man put seven cans of food on the counter, as well as a couple loaves of fruitcake. Max picked up each can and shook it by his ear before putting it into his bag, prying the loaves open to check inside them.

“I'm not a liar,” the man said, a bit offended. “I ain't gonna trick ya out of whatcha paid for.” Max just grunted again. He'd learned too quickly and too often that caution was better than courtesy.

He'd wrapped up and tucked away the first loaf when he heard motorcycles howling down the street. Max watched the windows out of the corner of his eye as the bikes pulled to a stop in front of the store.

The old man tensed up, even as he tried to keep his posture natural. One of his hands went out of sight just under the counter. Max tucked the other fruitcake away and settled his own hand on his pistol.

One of the riders got off of his bike, stalking over to the post. He kicked the door in. For a painful moment, Max saw one of the War Boys. Lanky, pale, and hungry in their anger and aggressiveness. The image faded as quickly as it had come. The newcomer had the same hunger and anger in his face, but the comparisons stopped there. Instead of clay and grease, he had odd tattoos, curved lines and dots in a symmetrical pattern. He'd shaved his hair off at the sides, and pulled the rest back into a top knot.

When he saw them, he narrowed his eyes and stalked towards them. Max just watched and waited. The boy stopped just a few feet from them.

“The hell do you want,” the old man said. His voice was rough as he  tried to come off as unafraid.  Max heard the underlying note of fear and uncertainty. The boy didn't seem to pick up on it.

“We're looking for someone.”

“Haven't seen 'em,” the man said shortly. Too quick, Max thought. Belied how he really felt.

“I haven't even told you who it is.”

“It don't matter, I haven't seen anyone from your settlement in a long time. I don't got anything for you here, so get out.”

“What about you stranger,” the boy asked, looking to Max next. “You see anyone on your way here?” His eyes bored into Max's, staring him down and daring him for a challenge. Max met his gaze easily.

“No.” The boy's eyes narrowed.

“It'd be a girl, not much shorter'n you. Long hair, pale skin, she has tattoos on her face.”

“No.”

“What direction did you come from?” he pressed.

“East.”

“Where east? More north or south? What did the mountains look like?”

“Like mountains, damn it boy, he ain't from around here. He's not gonna be able to draw you a damn map, an' he ain't seen your damn girl. Wherever-”

“You will not speak of her like that!” the boy burst out, anger sudden and all-consuming. Max's hand tightened on his pistol while the old man jumped. “You will show her respect, even if you-” He got a hold of himself, biting back his words as he collected himself. Max and the old man leaned a little away from him. Seething, the boy bared his teeth. Someone had filed them into sharp points.

“Watch how you speak, old man,” he growled. He moved off the counter, stepping back towards the door. “If you or anyone else finds her, you will return her to our fold. Keep her from us, and our retribution will be swift.” His eyes moved back to Max, brimming with violence and hate. “That goes for you too, stranger. You may not be from this valley, but you _will_ obey it's commandments.”

The boy left, wrenching the door open and returning to his bike. The other bike revved its engine as he climbed aboard his, starting it up and taking off with his companions. The old man didn't relax until their engines were a far and distant sound.

_Don't ask_ , Max told himself. _Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask, this kind of shit is what you just got away from, don't ask, don't ask, don't ask-_

“The hell was that about,” he muttered, uncurling his fingers from his gun.

“Fuckin' crazies,” the old man supplied. He sounded uneasy even while his words were derisive. “Some religious cult up by the canyon to the west. They pick off people in the outlying settlements, and any travellers that come through. Was on good behavior here 'cause they've got an agreement with the nearby militia. God knows why.”

This place was sounding worse and worse with every word. Max gave serious thought to turning around and leaving. He hadn't come here for any specific reason. He was just wandering around to add more to his map. He'd had more than his fill of religious craziness with the events of Furiosa and the Sisters. He really didn't need to invite more on himself.

He'd only come in at all because it was the quickest way through the mountain-locked valley. If he could help it, he didn't want to drive all the way around. Though, he also didn't want to be stuck in a valley with a bunch of religious nuts.

“Militia?” he asked, knowing it could only get worse. Militias usually tried to do good, but the best they could do was keep a small spit of territory functioning. Max didn't exactly have high hopes for anything related to a militia.

“Buncha soldiers run by an old world general or some such. They keep scavengers out and keep the towns around here safe enough. They just take supplies in return.”

“More'n their share?” Max guessed. The old man grimaced.

“Let's just say we're not wealthy. We ain't starvin' and we've usually got enough to trade with outsiders, but....” Max grunted his understanding. Not a full-fledged tyranny then, but edging over in that direction. He checked the last fruitcake and slung his bag over his shoulder.

“M' going west, there a way out of th' valley that way?”

“Sure, but you're better off heading a bit south first. There's a mountain ridge near the middle of the valley, west by south west. Once you hit that, start going way south for a day or so, then go west again. Just a big loop around pretty much. That'll get you around the crazies territory. When you hit the mountains 'round the valley start following it north. There'll be a pass you can get through. Not real wide an' pretty rocky, but long as yer not driving nothing too big-”

“Not,” Max interjected. The man nodded.

“Well then you'll be just fine. It's pretty treacherous, what with the nuts running around. But if they're looking fer that,” he waved a vague hand, “girl a' theirs, you might be able to nip on through not too badly.” Max nodded.

“Thanks.” Just as he turned to finally leave, a military truck pulled up just in front of the shop.

“Well hell,” the old man sighed, and Max shared the sentiment. He wasn't going to get out of here unmolested. Trying to sneak out would just look suspicious. “Don't worry, they'll be here about those boys, not about you.”

“Mm.” A few soldiers jumped out of the back, guns out and ready and dressed in desert fatigues. They stood at attention as a tall, dark man jumped out. He was well over six feet and not far away from hitting seven, if Max had to guess, and he was about two of Max across. He ordered the soldiers off as another man came out from the cab and headed for the door. One of the soldiers beat him there, holding it open for him.

He wasn't as tall as the black man, not much taller than Max, but he was broad and muscular. He had white hair cropped close to his head. His face was a gnarled mix of scarred, sun damaged skin and a jaw like a brick. He strode in, all military in his gait and the squinted suspicion of his eyes. The black man followed him in, having to actually duck his head.

“Clem,” he called, coming to a stop in front of the counter and standing in parade's rest. Clem sighed again and stood a little straighter with a definite air of reluctance.

“Yes general.”

“Those maggots that went through town, one of them came into your shop here.”

“Yes general, he did.”

“What did he want.”

“He was looking for some girl,” Clem reported obediently. “Said she was around...five six, five seven, long hair, pale skin, tattoos on her face, you know like they have.”

“What else.”

“Well, general, he didn't say nothin' else 'bout the girl.”

“What else did he say period,” the general corrected. Clem shrugged.

“Said if me'r anyone else found her, we're supposed to take her back to 'em.” The general's eyes narrowed. He struck Max as a shrewd man, cunning and ruthless. It made his bad knee ache a little in warning.

“Anything else?” Clem hesitated for a second before speaking again.

“He got real defensive of the girl. I was just saying that no one had seen his, well I called her his 'damn girl', and he snapped a bit. Thought we'd actually have a problem on our hands, but he reigned himself back an' left. That's when he told us to give her back if'n we found her.”

“What did he say about her exactly?” the general pressed. Max felt the eyes of the big man flanking the general on him, watching him. He decided not to look over. It wasn't one on one like it was with the boy, and Max wanted most of his attention focused on the actual action. He kept his senses trained on the big man nonetheless.

Clem made a face, scratching his head as he tried to remember the exact words. He glanced at Max for help. With a grimace, Max pitched in. Damn.

“Said he wouldn't speak of her like that,” he reported. “He'd show her respect, even if.”

“Even if what?” Max shrugged with one shoulder.

“Cut himself off.”

“Is that all? He didn't say who the girl was, why she'd left, what they wanted her back for?”

“Nothing like that,” Clem assured. “Just asked if we'd seen her, got hot, then left. Oh!” He snapped his gnarled fingers. “Said if we didn't, their 'retribution' would be swift. Said we had to follow the valley's commandments.” The general's eyes narrowed for a second, mind processing.

“Have either of you seen this girl?” he finally asked, looking at Max now. Max didn't like the look, didn't like the rigid military feeling he got from the general. He didn't get along well with military types. They were too black and white, too structured and strict for his tastes. And that had been in the old world.  In this new, shattered, and barren one, military types had a desperate death grip on their ways. It led to tyranny and cruelty – not to mention you couldn't trust them worth a damn.

“Just like we told the boy, we haven't seen anyone,” Clem said. “Not from their camp, at least.”

“Where did you come in from?” the general demanded next. The similarities between the two conversations, not even five minutes apart, was disconcerting.

“East.”

“Northeast or southeast.”

“East east,” Max said flatly. The general's eyes narrowed again.

“How far east.”

“Ways east.” The general scoffed.

“There's nothing east but Buzzards and that old bastard, Joe.” The back of Max's neck burned. The brand was long healed and covered up from sight, but it made him twitchy all the same.

“Came from a ways east,” he repeated, not letting his gaze waver from the general's. The general narrowed his eyes again, but he seemed to let it go as he turned back to Clem.

“I'll be stationing a few men here in case those maggots come back. Make sure they're well fed and rested for their shifts.”

“Yes sir,” Clem said dryly. The general turned to face Max.

“I'm not too keen on strangers in my valley, but that doesn't mean I don't allow it. If you attack any of the settlements under my control, we'll have some troubles you and I. You behave, and you can come and go as you please.” Max was tempted to make a sarcastic salute, but his survival instincts were better than that. Instead, he just nodded. The general eyed him for a few long uninterrupted seconds before nodding. He turned on his heel and headed for the door, big man right behind him. The soldier stationed at the door hadn't moved.

“One more thing,” he said, stopping by the door. Max tried not to let his exasperation show as the general eyed them from over his shoulder. “If you do find that girl, you hand her over to me. Do I make myself clear.”

“Yes general,” Clem said immediately. Max narrowed his eyes a little. The general seemed to expect an actual response of some sort, so he tilted his head down. It was enough, and the general nodded again and left the store. Most of the men climbed back into the truck, a small group staying behind and spreading out to start a patrol. Clem breathed out a sigh of relief.

“This is a mite more excitement than I was expecting for today, I'll tell you that stranger.”

“Mm,” Max grunted. He waited for the soldiers to clear out before nodding to Clem and heading out.

“Remember my directions fer staying out of crazy territory!” Clem called. Max waved a hand in acknowledgment. He eyed the soldiers walking about the streets as he tossed his bags into the car and climbed in. Some time ago he'd stumbled across a half-buried old town. As well as a veritable treasure trove of tradeable supplies, it had another Interceptor. It had been full of sand, and he was _still_ knocking it out of every damn where, but it had all its parts and ran reliably.

If Max was one to believe in miracles or some kind of cosmic divinity, he would have called it that. As it was, he called it his new car.

Pulling out his map, he oriented it to figure out where the old man was sending him. South by southwest, then follow the ridge south until he reached the end of it. Then make a wide loop down and around to the west until he hit the far rim of the valley. Easy enough to follow, but was it worth the risk of running through crazy territory?

Folding the map back up, Max stuffed it into his chest pocket. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel. Joe and the War Boys had been too much religious frenzy for Max's tastes. Any would have been too much, and that had been an awfully concentrated mess. The boy from before reeked of it.

Then again, the valley had a militia. Even if their territory didn't cover the whole of the area, they were still a deterrent to Buzzards. This would not be the case on the other side of the mountains. In fact, they were likely to flock all the harder. They'd wait for travelers who had gotten too complacent letting the militia protect them.

Buzzards or religious nuts, either way Max's options were steeped in awful. He debated for another moment or two before starting the car and heading west. Screw it. The nuts had their hunt to worry about, and that skewed the odds in their favor. If he did run across them, he'd shoot first and drive the hell away. It was a plan that had worked out most of the time.

Immediate track record not withstanding.

It didn't take long to leave the clustered settlements far behind. The horizon opened out into the vast desert after just a few minutes. There wasn't a road to follow, so Max tapped his compass and headed southwest.

The drive was quiet. He kept his eyes and ears sharp, always on the lookout for Buzzards or scavengers. There wasn't anything to worry about for now though. It didn't make him drop his guard, but he relaxed as much as he ever did.

His mind drifted back to the settlement and the two warring groups in the valley. The general was nothing new. Max had dealt with military types before. So long as Max didn't step on the militia's toes, he wouldn't run into problems with them. The cult, on the other hand, was quite a bit harder to predict. Without knowing what their religion was like he couldn't even begin to guess at how they would act. Fanatic with pronounced zealotry, but there plenty of flavors to that kind of thing.

Then there was the matter of that girl everyone was looking for. Max, really and truly, did not want to get involved. It could only end up as a complete mess, possibly with him dead. Probably with him dead.

Something in the back of his mind refused to let it go. He thought about the boy's demeanor. Clem had just casually disrespected the girl and he'd responded with unbridled ferocity. It hadn't even been disrespect, more of a dismissal. The boy had lashed out so viciously though, so fervently. With that kind of reaction, Max was willing to bed the girl was integral to the religion.

_Stop_ , he told himself. _You don't want to know. Don't get involved. Just stop thinking about it._

Instincts he'd thought long dead were starting to perk up again, inquisitive instincts. They were good for thinking through problems, understand the inner workings of a situation. He'd shoved them down a long time ago because they hadn't been helpful. Actually they'd led him into trouble more than a few times. He thought he knew better by now.

Apparently not, because he couldn't stop it once it started up.

The boy hadn't been defensive of her in a personal fashion, not like if she had been his woman.

_We are not things,_ Angharad's memory recited. She didn't sound angry in Max's head, but she did sound disappointed. Max reached up to cuff himself on the back of the head in penance.

As if she and the boy were together. The boy's tone had been one of blind devotion. It was easy to match his voice to the War Boys chanting the name of Joe. Max's stomach turned over at the thought and his knee ached. Rubbing the joint, Max grimaced and pushed the thoughts away. Joe was dead and gone, and the remaining War Boys were under the rules of Furiosa and the Sisters now. The tattoo on his back twinged all the same.

Turning back to his thoughts, whoever the girl was, she was important. She had to have some standing, or the boy wouldn't have gotten so worked up over a perceived slight. But that just begged the question of why did she run away? He assumed she ran away because the boy had only mentioned her. If someone had kidnapped her, he would have talked about other people along with the girl. They would have been part of the description even if he didn't know what they looked like.

Of course, she could have wandered off and was just lost. Maybe she had mental problems, or she was sick. Max's gut said otherwise. The boy would have been more worried than defensive if they'd just lost her. Running fit the behavior better.

So, why did she run? Maybe it was like the Sisters. Revered but trapped, property of the real head figure. Max couldn't imagine the War Boys getting as defensive over the Sisters as they had about Joe. And yes, he couldn't assume War Boys were the template for all religious nuts. But hell, they had to be indicative of some kind of pattern of behavior.

Then there was the behavior of the general. It hadn't been suspicious for him to pull up so soon after. Max figured they were watching the settlements like hawks. Four members of their adversaries was something to come check out. Even wanting to know exactly what they'd said was fine, as was being suspicious of Max.

It was his sudden interest in the girl. He didn't just want her because the crazies were looking for her, at least Max didn't think so. He wanted her because he knew who she was to them.

If the crazies got the girl first, they'd take her back to their settlement and keep a tighter leash on her - if their religion allowed them. If the militia got their hands on her, they'd use her as a bargaining chip to tip things in their favor.

_Don't get involved,_ Max told himself, even as his stomach turned again at the thought. The boy had said girl. Not woman or anything, he'd called her a girl. She couldn't be too old then. Hell, she might still be a child.

He saw Glory in front of the car. Her pale eyes were bright against the shadow of empty sockets. Her lips pulled into a nasty, skeletal smile. He jerked the wheel before he could think to stop himself, almost flipping the car over. He threw his weight to the side and knocked it back onto four wheels. It jarred his brain a little. His heart was pounding so hard he could barely breathe.

The vision was gone, and the adrenaline made its way out of his system. Max let out a shuddering breath and corrected his course back to southwest.

_See? Shouldn't be thinking about it. Need to let it go. Not my business, don't need to get involved._

He pushed his inquisitive side down, latching it firmly this time. Trouble found him without him going to look for it.

Hours passed almost peacefully after that. Max kept his mind empty and focused on the desert around him. The sun was starting to set when he saw the tops of the mountain ridge. They weren't too tall or steep, and natural paths ran up and down the inclines. Max peered at it through his windshield and considered his options. He could find a cave to bunker down in for the night without much difficulty, but that was only if he wanted to stop.

Of course, sitting back, he could see a sandstorm forming in his rear-view mirror. That at least answered his internal debate.

Grimacing, Max spotted a path up into the mountains and took it, putting on some speed. If he could see the storm, it meant he didn't have too much time to find shelter. The fading light made it hard to distinguish normal shadows from actual alcoves. He took a turn deeper into the mountains, following the twisting road to try and find something.

Almost halfway through the ridge, he spotted a cave big enough for the car. It looked deep enough to wait out the storm too. Slowing down, he pulled into the cave. He turned on his neglected headlights to see where he was going. The cave was quite a bit deeper than he thought. It was more of a tunnel that gradually opened up into a larger cavern.

Max pulled around and parked the car in the back of the cavern. He left the headlights on as he scrounged around for his portable campfire. It was a useful little thing. He set it down in the middle of the cavern and lit it, casting a warm glow around the space. It was a bit cold and damp. Light reflected off the wet stones. Outside, the storm hit. The wind howled across the entrance and whistled through the nooks and crannies. Max glanced around and pulled his jacket a little tighter.

Pulling out a can of beans, he poked around for a flat rock and dragged it over to the fire. He settled down and set to work, scraping the top of the can down against the stone. He'd almost gotten it down far enough when his senses ticked, hair on the back of his neck standing on end. _Danger_.


	2. Chapter Two

_Pulling out a can of beans, Max poked around for a flat rock and dragged it over to the fire. He settled down and set to work, scraping the top of the can down against the stone. He'd almost gotten it down far enough when his senses ticked, hair on the back of his neck standing on end._ Danger _._

He twisted out of the way just as someone tried to smash his head in with a rock. The person tripped forward, stumbling a bit before catching herself. In the flickering firelight, she looked terrifying. Long shaggy bangs cast odd shadows over her features. It made the dark tattoos highlighting her bones even more striking. Her eyes were wide and wild, fierce as Furiosa's but more savage in their desperation. Baring her teeth, she regained her footing and lunged again.

Max caught her hand by the wrist, free hand scrambling for his knife. She grabbed for his shoulder and he kicked her off with a boot planted in her stomach. It threw her back and she hit the ground with a short, choked cry, curling around her left side protectively. It was only for a second though, and she was pushing herself up again. Drawing his knife, Max scrambled to his feet and fell into a defensive position.

She was young, couldn't be much more than seven thousand days, if she was even that old to begin with. Her hands and feet were wrapped with strips of cloth from the dirty, thin white shirt she wore. Max saw the flash of scars covering her legs, only processing that they were there before she ran at him. The rock was a heavy and cumbersome weapon, and she swung it wildly. Max kept his hands up and blocked her attacks. He found an opening and rammed his shoulder into her chest.

Instead of falling back, she latched onto his jacket and yanked him forward into a headbutt. She threw her weight back on one leg and hooked her other around one of his. Landing on his back with her on top of him, the girl was quick to straddle his chest and pin his knife hand with her knee. She wasn't trained and she didn't have much experience under her belt, that much was obvious. She made up for it in quick thinking and aggression though.

Max blocked the next swing of the rock and struggled to get his knife free. Both of his hands were stuck now, and she punched him in the face. Max braced his good leg on the ground and threw his weight up, rolling them over to the side. He slammed her hand onto the ground, forcing her to let go of the rock. She kneed him in the side of the head and dug her nails into his wrist, scratching deep gouges into the skin. She yanked her other hand down towards herself, sacrificing some of the skin on the back of it unbalance him.

He pitched forward and had to let go of her hand to brace himself again. She punched him in the side of the face and shoved at him, rolling them back. Both her hands grabbed his wrist now, slamming it on the ground until he had to let go of the knife. In retaliation, Max grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled hard. She punched him, first in the face and then in the throat, then wrapped her arm around his to bend it in. He let go of her hair, and she scrambled forward to grab for the knife.

Max grabbed her waist to pull her back, and she cried out in pain. It was her left side again. Max felt the squish of blood as he gripped down. She kneed him in the stomach and tried to wrench out of his grip. Throwing her to the side, Max rolled over and snatched up his knife. She scrambled up again, panting a little from exertion and trying not to hold her left side. He could see blood seeping through her shirt from where his thumb had pressed in too hard.

She dropped into a defensive stance, hands out and ready to try and catch any of his attacks. He shifted the knife in his hand, advancing cautiously. She backed up, putting her back to the wall and keeping her front facing him. She was so focused on him that she didn't keep an eye on her surroundings. Her foot stepped into a shadowed area and met nothing but inclined slick rock. She stumbled, flailing in panic, and started to disappear into the darkness. Max dropped his knife and leapt forward. He grabbed the arm closest to him and pulled her forward enough to catch her under her other arm.

He slid on the rock for a second, almost sliding into the hole himself. He quickly braced his weight back and dragged her up and back onto solid ground. Startled, she prioritized getting away from the hole and held onto him. Then she lashed out and kicked his bad knee. Max winced and let her go, stumbling back. He made sure not to fall into the hole.

Gaining her feet again, she dodged away from him and towards the far wall. Max tried to catch her, but she dropped to the ground and scuttled into a low alcove in the wall. Sighing in exasperation, Max tested his weight on his bad leg and went back to his car. He dug out a large police flashlight, checked to make sure it still worked, and knelt down by the alcove. He shone the light into it.

It was fairly deep, three, four feet in and low. The girl had pressed herself flat to the ground and as far back as possible, curled in on herself. She flinched against the light, but her eyes never faltered from glaring at him. She was trying to keep as much weight off her left side as she could.

She was young and pale, with a horrible haunted look to her. With the unforgiving light on her, he could see sunburn spread across the lower half of her face. It was angry red on her forearms and her legs too. He shone the light down to get a better look at her legs. The scarring was worse than he'd thought. The shirt was short enough that it didn't even make it half way down her thighs. He could see the vicious bite scars that littered her upper legs. Full mouthfuls of flesh were missing, ranging from old to new. Her shins and calves had a multitude of scars too. They were still bite marks but more nips than actual bites.

All the bites came from humans.

Max had to stand up and walk away a few steps. He felt so nauseous he was sure he would throw up.

_Shit. Shit, shit, no. Damn it, no._

Religion, fanaticism, zealotry, that he could deal with. Even cannibalism, he supposed. Maybe both of them together. But she was so _young_. Young, feral, scared, and hurt. She'd run away because they were eating her alive.

Swallowing, Max stood by the fire and stared into it, needing to breathe and think. The girl didn't move in her alcove. She didn't seem eager to start a fight again. He didn't blame her.

_Hell. Damn it all to hell. What the hell do I do now._

He should leave her, let her find her own way, keep moving. He could even give her some medical supplies to make up for aggravating her wound. Most important, he _shouldn't get involved._ The last time he got involved in something he distinctly hadn't wanted to, he'd gotten beat to hell and back and was almost deaf in his right ear.

Glory, Splendid, Jessie, their pretty faces rotting into skulls, angry and hateful, screaming _how could you let me die!_ And now he really was going to be sick.

Reeling for a second, Max tried to push the faces away. He couldn't lose himself right now. The girl was still hostile, maybe even more dangerous now that she was hurting. He couldn't let his guard down.

But the faces wouldn't stop screaming. The ghosts were in front of him, stalking forward with horrid faces, relentless screaming, blame. Max stumbled back, blinking hard and trying to clear them out of his head. His bad hand shook as he lifted his arm, trying to protect his face at least. Run, he had to run, get in the car and drive, sandstorm be damned-

_Monster!_ Jessie screamed at him. _How could you let our son die like that!_ _How many more children are you going to let_ **die** _!_

Max stumbled back a few steps, the pain like a shot to the chest. The memories burned in his head and tears pressed at his eyes. He couldn't catch his breath and choked on nothing. For a moment, he thought the girl had attacked him and he just hadn't noticed. She'd seen his weakness and attacked, and the ghosts took advantage on their own. His hands dropped to check his chest for wounds, but there was nothing. He was fine, and the visions were gone.

The block in his throat moved, or maybe air came back into the universe, and he sucked in a quick breath. He was still shaking.

Rubbing his eyes, he breathed out and pulled himself back together. He was doing better. It was in small increments, barely noticeable to anyone but himself, but he _was_ doing better. Kind of.

He settled, rubbing the back of his neck in thought. Crouching down, he peered into the alcove. The girl was still there. She flattened herself defensively when she caught him looking. At least she hadn't slipped out when he wasn't looking. He left her there for now.

Turning his flashlight on again, Max headed over to the hole she had almost fallen through. The hole was jagged, knocked open by something. Maybe the ground had been too weak and just gave way after a bit. It dropped down a bit, three, maybe four feet, before it hit a slope and that led down and out of sight. Max couldn't see further without laying on the ground and looking or climbing down. That would make him too vulnerable to the girl though. Even this was risky, and he glanced back at the alcove. He could just see the firelight reflecting off her eyes in the shadows.

Bad idea.

Straightening, he rubbed at his bad knee for a second and wandered back over to his car. He still had to heat up the beans, and he needed a better peace offering anyway. Digging around for his food bag, he spotted a pair of boots he'd tossed in several days back. They were too small for him, but they were made of good material and in good condition. He'd been thinking he could trade them for something or dismantle them to repair his own boots. Might be useful now.

Grabbing the boots, he pulled out the fruitcake too and tore off a good chunk. He grabbed a small canteen of water while he was at it. Then he sat next to the alcove.

The girl eyed him suspiciously as he sat down, actually baring her teeth at him. She didn't have filed teeth like the boy.

“Hey,” Max said. He peered around the alcove, then refocused on her face. He held out the piece of fruitcake and water and let her look at them. “Give you these, you don't attack me anymore. Yeah?” Her throat moved as she swallowed, probably salivating. She forced her eyes back up to his face. He saw the suspicion etched in every line of her expression.

“It's not poisoned,” he reassured. He pulled off a piece at random and popped it into his mouth, chewing to prove his point, and took a swig of the water. She didn't move for several seconds, even after he swallowed. Then she shifted, shuffling closer and reaching out her hand. He held it back for a second and she froze, arm darting back close to herself.

“No attacking me?” She stared at him, unmoving, and then nodded. He nodded in return and handed her the supplies. She snatched them out of his hand and slid to the far back again. She devoured the food in heavy mouthfuls and sucked down the water. Max watched her for a few seconds, making sure she didn't eat too quickly and throw up. She'd drained the canteen and eaten over half of the fruitcake when he moved again. He set the boots out in her line of sight. She was quick to look up at him again. Max tapped a finger against the black leather.

“If you come out and gimme a hand looking around that hole you almost fell in.” Her eyes immediately turned suspicious, but just like the food, it seemed too good a chance to pass up. He'd seen her filthy, bandaged feet, cut and torn up already. A good pair of boots was hard to come by and almost crucial. If she had any sense, she'd want them. He understood her suspicion all the same.

“Too small for me, and wouldn't mind some help taking a look at the hole. You wanna help, all yours.” He stood, taking the boots with him and setting them down by the portable campfire. She'd have to crawl out to get them. If she decided it wasn't worth it, she could stay in her alcove.

_Should have enough first aid supplies to patch her up a bit_ , he thought. He mentally cuffed himself. He didn't need to go wasting anything else on a girl who had just tried to bash his head in with a rock.

Still, he felt a little bad about aggravating her wound. The least he could do was check her wound and her feet, maybe her hands if she'd bandaged them because of injuries. If she let him, of course.

Crouching by the hole, Max shone his flashlight down again. He tred to crane his neck to see around the edge of the hole and further in. It was maybe a minute or two before he heard shuffling from the alcove. He glanced back to see the girl creeping out. She had another rock in her hand.

“No attacking,” he reminded. She grunted in acknowledgment. Likely the rock was to defend against him if he turned on her, and he respected that. He turned back to the hole. “Put the boots on and come over here.” She sat by the campfire and pulled on the boots gingerly. The soles of her feet ached and burned from bruises and cuts, and the tops of her feet stung from sunburn. The inside of the boots were soft and supple and would have felt nice if her feet hadn't hurt. Unfortunately, any kind of touch hurt at the moment. She sucked it up and laced them tightly, tugging them into place. She stood and treaded over to where Max squatted by the hole.

She was uneasy around him, not sure what to expect of the stranger. When his car had first pulled into the cave, it had scared her half to death. She was so sure it was one of the Redeemers that all her adrenaline had flooded her system. Even so, she hadn't been in a position to defend herself. There were a few rocks at the back of the alcove, and an opening into a wider tunnel that she couldn't fit into. She'd just grabbed a rock and waited, heart hammering in her chest.

When the man had stepped out and set up camp, she still wouldn't relax. She'd waited until he was distracted, working a can open. Then she'd crept out silently to ambush him. Obviously, that hadn't gone the way she planned. Maybe it was for the best though. While he fought her, he hadn't been aiming to kill or even seriously hurt her. Pressing on her wound had just been an accident. Then he'd grabbed her before she could fall down the hole and hurt herself. Even gave her food and boots.

Instinct screamed at her to be suspicious and wary, not let her guard drop for a second. A different instinct, a feeling deep in her gut, wondered if she could try to trust him at least a little.

For now, she finished her last bite of fruitcake and peered into the hole with him. The man glanced up at her and shone the light down where the slope disappeared.

“Might be a tunnel. Pretty slick and pretty dark.”

“Mm,” she agreed. She knelt down and leaned forward, sticking her head into the hole to take a look. He passed her the flashlight without a word, and she shone it around.

“Short tunnel,” she reported. “Little room. Bigger hole.”

“Enough room to stand?” he asked. She nodded. “All right. Hold tight.” He stood with a wince and a grunt, shaking off a limp in a few steps as he headed back to his car. She watched him, hand tightening around her rock. He popped the trunk of the car and dug around for a few seconds before coming back with a capped red stick.

“Flare,” he said, holding it up for her to see. He motioned her aside, and she moved away. She wasn't sure how close to get to him, how close was safe and how far was too much. She ended up hovering uncertainly as he swung his legs over the side of the hole and lowered himself in. The lip only came up to his chest, and he had to be careful about his footing. He looked up at her.

“Not leaving you alone with my car,” he said bluntly. She skirted around to the other side of the hole. She passed him the flashlight before climbing down. It didn't bother her that he didn't trust her enough to leave her alone with his things. Actually, it put her more at ease. They eyed each other from either end of the hole, watching each other. Max moved first, clicking the flashlight on and ducking his head under the rock. She followed, watching her step on the rocks.

The short tunnel opened up to a room like she'd said. It wasn't that big, ceiling a few feet above Max's head. He shined the light around and spotted another tunnel off to their right. He turned to listen with his left ear. From the howling wind, he guessed the tunnel lead outside. Max gestured with the flashlight.

“Tunnel here goes outside.”

“Hole,” the girl said, standing a few steps back from the edge. Max came over and shone the light down. The beam didn't hit the bottom, dispersing into the darkness. The rocks were slick and a slight incline led to the hole. Max braced himself and leaned over a little, peering down. The girl watched him and tried to mimic his posture. Max glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Weight on your back foot,” he instructed. She did as he said, and Max nodded when he was confident enough that she wouldn't tip over into the hole. Striking the flare against the ground, Max let it light up before tossing it as close to the center as he could get it. They watched the flare fall, red light reflecting against the rock as it fell down, down, down, down. They had to lean further over the lip to watch its descent.

It fell a ways down, finally hitting a slight slope and knocking off to the side. The hole looked wide all the way around and as far down as they could see. The light from the flare faded out of sight. Max leaned back again, and the girl followed suit. Shining the flashlight around, Max gauged the slope from the cavern to the hole.

“Good thing you didn't fall.” The girl looked over too, looking at the incline. Uncertainty and a bit of fear entered her posture. Her hands came up over her stomach in an unconscious gesture. Max didn't blame her. He could imagine what would have happened if he hadn't grabbed her. He nodded his head to the tunnel.

“Let's go back up.” She snapped out of her thoughts and nodded, climbing back towards the cavern. Max followed, setting the flashlight over the lip and giving her a hand up. The touch startled her. She grabbed at the rock and scrambled away from him, putting her back to the wall. Max held up his hands.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said lowly. He hadn't meant to help her up, it had just been a reflex when he saw her having a bit of trouble. It surprised him as much as it did her. She watched him, backing away as Max pulled himself up out of the hole. He felt just as cautious as she did, though more unsure of himself than anything. His hands still tingled from her warmth and weight, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He remembered picking up Sprog, the fluttery beat of his son's heart and the lines of his ribs across his palms. She reminded him of that.

It made pain twist low in his stomach, clenching tight around his heart, and he blinked hard to try and push it away. It was a raw, open feeling, and he hadn't felt so flayed open in a long time. He'd run from the feeling for as long as there'd been a feeling to run from. Bile rose in the back of his throat, and he forced it down. He refused to let the feeling overtake him.

Blinking back into reality, he saw the girl watching him. She hovered near the alcove, unsure where they stood now and if she should crawl back into her hiding place. Max walked back to his car, giving her a wide berth as he put the flashlight back. He stood by it, shifting his weight for a second or two before indicating the campfire.

“Gonna heat up some beans. You can have some too, if you want.” He tilted his head towards the car. “Got some first aid supplies you can use too for....” He pointed at her side, and she moved her arm over the wound. He shrugged and ran a hand over the back of his head. His hair was starting to get longer, and he needed to trim it down soon. Across the room, the girl hesitated for a second and then nodded. She moved away from the wall, straying closer as Max pulled out the bag of first aid supplies.

He tossed it to her as he crossed to his spot from before, starting to grind down the can of food again. The girl sat across the fire from him and began sorting through the bag. She seemed to have a good grasp of basic medical knowledge at least. She pulled things out to look at them and either dropped them back into the bag or set them beside herself.

Max finished grinding the can down and squeezed it, popping the top off with a bit of effort. He set the can on the grill over the campfire as the girl set the bag aside. She tugged her shirt up to reveal a worn, dirty bandage, dried blood staining the center. Max watched her carefully peel the dressing off, wincing as it took some of the tender healed skin with it. It was red and inflamed from infection. It didn't look too bad yet. The shape said it was another bite mark.

The girl applied gentle pressure around the wound and squeezed out drops of ugly yellow pus. She used the old bandage to wipe the infection away and kept squeezing until only blood came out. She set the filthy gauze aside and picked up the glass vial of peroxide. Steeling herself, she took a breath and poured it. Max flinched, empathizing with her pain. The liquid burned and bubbled over the open wound. It formed a thick layer of foam in only a few seconds. To her credit, she didn't cry out. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain and clenched her jaw. After a moment she looked down at the wound again and kept an eye on how much peroxide she was using.

When she'd covered the wound, she put the peroxide away and picked up the antiseptic salve. It was just a small pot with a mix of anywhere between ten to fifteen different antiseptics. Whatever Max could get his hands on had gone into the pot and mixed to an even consistency. She took some of the semi-clear salve and spread it evenly over the bite mark. It hurt, showing in the way she flinched every so often. She was determined though and didn't stop. When she finished, she scraped all the clean excess back into the pot and closed it up.

She set a clean gauze over the wound and smoothed it out. The pressure didn't bother her after everything else. She grabbed a few strips of cloth and wound them around herself to keep the gauze in place. It was a clean, neat job. Max hadn't seen that in a while. Even patching himself up he tended to be pretty sloppy. He just did the bare minimum to keep the wounds covered and maybe not infected.

She changed the bandages on her feet next. They weren't quite as bad. Cut up and bruised, but it was general wear and tear from running around barefoot.

When she was done, she put the first aid supplies back into the bag and tossed it over to Max. He caught it and set it beside himself. The beans in the can were bubbling by now, and he stood to go dig out a small tin cup and a fork. He poured enough beans into the cup to fill it and passed it over to the girl.

“Here,” he grunted. She accepted it and dug in. Max ate straight from the can. He wrapped his handkerchief around it to keep his hands from burning on the metal. They ate together in silence. It was tense, neither sure they could trust the other, but in a strange way it was companionable. Max couldn't trust the girl because she would turn on him if she needed to to survive. At the same time, it was nice to know she wasn't lying about that.

The girl ate quickly and greedily, scooping the sauce out and sucking it off her fingers. Max watched as she cleaned the tin completely. He recognized that level of hunger, having felt it quite a few times before. More food wouldn't hurt. Max pulled another piece off the loaf of fruitcake. It was smaller than the last one, but fruitcake was so dense that too much more would make her sick.

“Here,” he offered. She didn't hesitate before grabbing it and scarfing it down. At least she trusted him not to poison her. A malicious part of his brain told him he could use that against her. It was one of those intrusive, passing thoughts that popped up every so often. He pushed it down with practiced ease.

Shifting to lean back a little, Max stretched out his bad leg. His knee was bothering him, stiff from driving all the time with sudden bursts of activity. He needed a new leg brace for it, but he hadn't been able to find one for a long time. It wasn't worth going out of his way looking for it either.

Glancing up, he caught the girl watching him. Her eyes alternated between watching his hands rub his knee and looking up at his face. He met her gaze. There was a question in the back of her head, he could see it in her eyes. She didn't ask it though, and he didn't answer it for her. He didn't feel like talking about it.

The wind howled through the tunnel, and the storm didn't give any signs of stopping soon. As bad as it was, no one would risk traveling through it. It had been long enough that he doubted anyone would duck into the cave for shelter. It was safe to get some rest. His only real concern would be the girl trying to kill him in his sleep. He was a light sleeper though, and as long as he closed the door he'd hear if she tried to come for him.

Gathering his supplies back up, he tossed everything into the back of the car. He saved the portable campfire for last.

“Going to get some sleep,” he announced, feeling a little out of place. The girl looked up from licking a crumb of fruitcake off her hand. Max shifted his weight, then jerked his thumb towards the car. “I'll sleep in the car, doors closed. No attacking?” She nodded and slid the tin cup towards him. He picked it up and tossed it into the car too.

“M' taking the fire and turning it off. Get settled first.” She nodded again and crawled back into the alcove. It couldn't be comfortable or pleasant, and Max actually felt a twist of worry for her. Damn. Damn, he was getting too soft. He had a spare, albeit scratchy and worn blanket in the trunk. Grumbling to himself, Max opened the trunk and dragged it out from under a few supplies. He crossed to the alcove and crouched down to hold it out to her.

“It's cold,” was all he said. He could see her face in the dim reflected light of the fire, eyes peering up at him. Confusion was clear in her expression. She didn't know why he was being so nice to her. Max didn't know why either, but hell, here they were. Her hesitation didn't last long as she took the blanket, murmuring something. It might have been thanks or just an acknowledgment, but it was too low for Max to hear. She shuffled closer to the opening to get some room to wrap the blanket around herself. Max turned off the portable campfire, giving it a second to cool while he clicked his flashlight on. Without the fire, it was almost pitch black.

He wrapped his bandanna around the campfire once it was cool enough and carried it back to the car. Climbing in, he slammed the door shut behind himself. The car was parked close enough to the wall that he could sleep with his back against the driver's side door. He could feel things out in the dark, and he reorganized everything before settling in for the night.

It felt odd, going to sleep while he knew there was another person nearby he didn't trust. He'd been able to sleep while he was with Furiosa and the Sisters, but that was different. They'd been on the same side, and even if they hadn't they wouldn't have killed him for their own survival. Hell, they'd thrown Nux out of the rig instead of outright killing them. That right there had increased his chances dramatically.

Well...the girl wasn't so bad. It was just better to be safe than sorry.

Sighing, Max kept his gun on his lap and let himself slip into a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter Three

Senses on full alert, the girl's eyes flashed open as adrenaline dumped into her system. She forced herself completely still and looked out at the cave. It was dark. The only light came from the sun reflecting in from outside. It bounced around off the walls until it reached the cavern. In that dim lighting, she could see three dark shapes moving around slowly and quietly. They were whispering to each other, so low she almost couldn't make out what they were saying.

“Can you see in the car?”

“Too dark. Looks like a person.”

“Is it her?”

“Stupid, I can't tell, it's too dark!”

“Wild said we can't hurt her, not at all.”

“I know that! You think I'd hurt the goddess? C'mon, we blitz 'em, drag 'em out, get a good look at 'em.” The girl's heart pounded, and her hands shook. They were Redeemers. She'd known they'd come after her, but seeing them again so soon.... It terrified her.

_When they see it's not me, they'll kill him_. The thought sparked in her head and she jolted. No. She couldn't let that happen.

They were almost to the car now, getting ready to open it and drag the outsider out. He was probably sleeping with a weapon, but if they got the drop on him, they might still kill him. She had to act move fast. She scrambled around for a rock, edging closer to the opening of the alcove. Her fingers closed on one.  Without thinking further, she pulled herself out of the alcove and threw the rock at the car. It went straight by one of the Redeemers' heads and knocked against the window.

The three twisted around to stare, and cold fear added to her adrenaline.

“The fuck?” one of them cursed. He yanked out a flare and struck it against the sole of his boot. She flinched away from the light, crouching back against the wall.

“It's the goddess!” one of them yelled excitedly. They lunged at her just as she dropped down and scuttled back into the alcove. If they were truly determined to come get her, she wouldn't be able to stop them. And they _would_ be that determined.

They ran over to the alcove, one of them dropping down and reaching for her. A hysterical, feral shout left her. She flattened herself against the far wall and braced herself against it, kicking out at the boy. Her hands groped around for another rock.

“Be careful!” one of the other two yelled. “Don't hurt her!”

“I got it I got it,” the one on the ground assured. She drove the toe of her boot into his side, kicking again and again to try and push him back or at least break his ribs. He grunted, yelping as she actually delivered a kick that did some damage. She kicked him again and changed to using her whole foot, now just trying to force him back.

“Get a _way_!” she yelled. She found another rock and grabbed it, hitting it against the hand reaching for her. He yelped again, yanking his hand back, then grabbed her wrist.

“I got her!” She kicked him in the side as hard as she could as she dragged his hand forward, biting down on his arm. “Ow, _fuck_! She's biting me!”

“Goddess,” one of the boys soothed, crouching down with the flare. “Let us take you back to the fold. Don't fight us.”

“Pull her out,” the other urged. “Don't let her go!” The boy started to pull her forward. She stuck her arm through the tunnel at the back, splaying her hand out against the rock to anchor herself. She bit down harder, and hot copper blood filled her mouth. The boy rolled onto his side and worked his other arm around to grab her hair.

“Pull me back, pull me back!” Something cracked against the rock and one of the boys collapsed, moaning softly. The reassuring one jumped to his feet.

“What the- hey!” Something slammed into the rocks next, knocking him off his feet.

“What's going on back there?” the boy holding her called back nervously. Someone grabbed his feet and yanked, dragging him out of the alcove. He wouldn't let go of her though, and the rock was too slick to hold onto. She yelped as he pulled her out with him. Once the boy was out, the outsider rolled him onto his back and punched him in the face. The boy let go of her to curl up and protect his face with his arms. She kicked him for good measure, scrambling up and away. The outsider grabbed the top of the boy's head and smashed it back into the rocks.

The boy behind him, the reassuring one, used the wall to pull himself up.

“Behind you!” she warned. Max turned just as the boy threw himself at him, clamping onto his back and biting down on his shoulder. His teeth couldn't make it through the leather jacket, but the pressure hurt a bit. Gritting his teeth, Max stumbled and slammed the boy into the wall behind him. The boy he'd been punching twisted around to grab his legs and trip him up.

Max stumbled, throwing a hand back to brace against the wall. The first one he'd attacked pushed himself up, pulling a knife from his waistband.

“Hold 'im steady!” he ordered, free hand pressed against his wound. “I'll kill him!” The girl grabbed the rock she'd used last night and swung it against the back of the boy's head. He fell to the ground and she went with him, struggling to get the knife out of his hand.

Max drove his elbow into the ribs of the boy on his back, wrenching a foot free to stomp on the one still trying to trip him. The boy on his back let go enough that Max could grab his shirt, flipping him over his shoulder onto the ground. The boy at his feet yanked his leg out from under him. Max landed hard, putting his arm out to stop himself and landing on his elbow.

Hissing through his teeth, Max kicked the boy in the face and struggled to get up. The girl punched her assailant in the throat and crawled over him to get the knife he'd dropped. He grabbed her around the middle and stood with her slung over his shoulder.

“I've got the goddess!” he rasped out, stumbling a bit before catching himself. She screamed and thrashed in his grip. She kicked her feet and raked her nails over his back, twisting around to bite him too.

“Let me go!” she screamed, struggling hard enough to make him falter. Max didn't think, vaulting over the boy on the ground and ramming into the other one. All three of them toppled over onto the ground. The girl smashed her face against the stone, and the boy hit the back of his head. Max was at least cushioned.

The boy let go and she crawled out of his grip, going for the knife as Max tried to pull out his own. These boys were young, right around the same age as the girl, and Max didn't want to kill them if he didn't have to. That didn't mean he wouldn't.

The boy he'd flipped off his back made a grab for the girl just as she snatched up the knife. She immediately turned, stabbing him in the shoulder and twisting it. The boy howled in pain and fell back, clutching his shoulder. Instead of jumping on top of him, she went for the one grappling with Max. He'd grabbed hold of Max's wrist and was trying to lunge up enough to get at his throat. The boy rolled them over, straddling his chest and baring his teeth in a vicious snarl.

The girl stabbed him in the back, twisting and dragging the blade through his muscle. He cried out, arching into the pain, and she shoved him to the side to get him off Max. She grabbed Max's hand and pulled him up onto his feet. Max unsheathed his knife and moved her behind him, backing up towards the wall.

Even with the injuries, they were still getting up and pressing towards them. The one Max had been kicking had a broken nose, blood pouring down his face and staining his teeth. It looked all the more frightening in the red, flickering light. Another held onto his wounded shoulder and advanced slowly, eyes narrowed. Even the one the girl had stabbed in the back was forcing himself to stand.

Max still had his gun, but he hadn't thought to shoot them earlier. They were too close right now; in the time it would take him to pull the gun out and aim, they would be on top of him. He and the girl had knives, but so did two of the boys. The three advanced, cautious as they formed a loose circle. They were like a pack of hungry dogs, not as reckless and wild as War Boys, but dangerous all the same. Max tried to keep all three of them in his sight at once. They moved, passing in front of each other. The biggest passed his knife to the boy with the back wound. He stood in the middle, holding his hands out in a placating gesture.

Trap. If they went for him, the other two would close in on them. If they went for one of the other two, they would fend them back with the knife long enough to let the other two close in. The boys weren't idiots; inexperienced and too excited, but not idiots.

“Hey outsider,” the big one said lowly, almost soothing. Max knew better than to fall for it. The boy nodded his head to the girl. “That girl? She's ours. Give her back to us, and we'll let you leave unharmed. Yeah?”

“They're lying,” the girl whispered just at his back. Max tilted his head back towards her, let her know he'd heard. “You can't trust them.”

“I don't,” he murmured.

“We just want her back,” the big one said. Max saw them inching closer and flicked his knife.

“ _Back_ ,” he ordered, and the big one took a step back. The other two didn't. Max narrowed his eyes. The flare flickered, and he estimated they only had a few seconds of light left. Once it went dark the three would attack. He saw them tensing, getting ready to lunge forward, and he tensed back up. The flare spluttered. The girl caught on in an instant, darting in front of him and pushing him back the second before the light went. The three boys jerked forward, but immediately pulled back when she got in the way.

_They won't hurt her._ Left Max and the girl with the advantage. While their eyes were still adjusting, Max moved around the girl and rammed into the unarmed boy. He jammed his knife into the boy's side, catching the blade between his ribs and twisting. The boy cried out in pain, clinging to Max, and Max hated that he had to kill him. He couldn't see them getting out of there any other way though.

The girl took the cue and went for the one closest to the car. He must have recognized her, because he dropped his knife to keep from cutting her. She stabbed his shoulder and jumped up, locking her knees around his waist. She held on tight as she tore into his throat with her bare teeth. The third boy ran at Max, and he moved around to use the boy as a shield. He planted his boot into the boy's stomach, kicking him back into his friend just as the other stabbed his back. They both pitched over and landed on top of each other.

Getting up, Max dropped his knee onto the chest of the big one and slit his throat. The boy under him cried out, recognizing the warmth spilling across his neck and chest. Max did the same to him. He straightened and turned just as the last boy gave a gurgling, dying breath. The girl was kneeling on his chest, tearing her head back and taking a mouthful of his throat with her.

“You all right?” he asked, feeling wary. He knew she'd been cannibalized, but that didn't mean she wasn't doing it herself. Of course, then she reeled up and stumbled away from the body, hunching over to throw up against the wall. That was a pretty solid indicator to her feelings. Sheathing his knife, Max went over to her side. He hesitated, pulling back a few times before patting her shoulder.

“It's all right,” he mumbled. “All right, it's all right. Get it all out.” She threw up everything in her stomach and then dry-heaved for several minutes. Straightening, she gasped for air. Max let her up and took a few steps back. The girl stumbled, rubbing her eyes and mouth. It smeared them with blood before she noticed. She hastily wiped her hands off on her shirt and pulled the sleeve down far enough to wipe her face off. She was still shaking.

“You all right?” Max asked again. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, taking long, deep breaths. Max gave her the time. Hopefully there weren't any other patrols nearby. Or, if there were, they wouldn't stumble on the cave for a bit longer.

“I,” she finally said, hiccuping before getting herself together. “I didn't....” She dropped her hands and shook her head, rubbing her mouth with the back of her wrist.

“Should've just used the knife. Shouldn't've bitten, don't want to anymore. I don't-” She was edging towards hysteria, and she pulled herself back. She ended up dry heaving against the wall again.

“Hey,” Max soothed, stepping forward and rubbing her back. “Shhh, it's all right. You did what you had to.”

“I _didn't_ ,” she forced out. “I didn't _have_ to, should've just used the _knife_.” He tucked his hand against the back of her neck and rubbed his thumb against her jaw. He'd done it for Jessie, just an affectionate, soothing gesture. The memories were painful, but right now demanded too much of his attention for him to worry about it.

“Hey,” he said again, lower, calming. He tugged her away from the wall, pulling her head up so she had to stand straight and breathe. She let him move her, straightening her back and taking an even breath. “You survived. You followed your instincts and survived.”

“Instincts made me tear his throat out.”

“So get new instincts,” he said. “Not used to having a knife, used what you had. Use a knife more.” She looked up at him, but he couldn't read her expression in the dim light. She was standing straighter though, no longer shaking. He nodded, and she nodded back. He let go of her neck.

“Any more coming?” The girl went over to check one of the bodies, and Max checked the nearest to him for anything usable.

“...Eyes,” she said.

“What about 'em.”

“No, they're-” She made a noise and he looked over. She was holding up the head of one of them, pointing to his forehead. He couldn't see what she was indicating in the dark.

“Hell with this,” he muttered. He crossed to reach into the still open car, grabbing his flashlight and clicking it on. Shining it on the head, he saw a tattoo on the boy's forehead. It was two circles, one inside of the other, and a spot in the center. Short lines and dots ran along the outside of the largest circle. In a way, he supposed it did look a bit like an eye.

“What's it mean?” he asked.

“They-” She let go of the head and waved a hand, making a noise again. “Go out. Look for things, supplies, prey, danger? They-”

“Scouts,” he offered. She pointed to him and nodded.

Hell, she was almost as bad as him at communicating. Luckily for her, he understood poor communication skills. Sometimes better than proper ones.

“So, more nearby?”

“Maybe, around? Search party, big group, send out little teams like this, they-” She motioned to him.

“Scout.”

“-scout around, go back to the search party.”

“Will they notice these three are missing?” She nodded.

“Eventually.” Time to leave then.

“Grab anything useful off those bodies and put it into the car,” he ordered. He tossed her the flashlight, able to check for things by touch. The girl caught it and began rooting through their pockets. She took their knives, a few pieces of scrap metal, a scope and a set of binoculars. She put together a pile beside her of anything she thought might be useful. Checking their sizes, she rolled the bigger one off. She stripped the clothes off the smaller body.

She just needed his pants and jacket but was pleased to find he had an undershirt on. She stripped it off of him and threw it on under her long-sleeved shirt. Tugging her boots off, she pulled on the black pants next. They were a bit tighter on her than they had been on the boy, but they fit and didn't restrict her movement. She pulled her boots back on and laced them up. The boy's belt had sheathes for knives and she grabbed it, threading it through the loops on her pants.

She pulled the leather jacket on next. The sleeves went down well past her knuckles, but it fit across her shoulders. There was blood splattered across the collar and over the chest. The smell of it made her feel a little nauseous, but she pushed it away. It wasn't any worse than having raw, bitten off flesh in her mouth. She welled up a bit of saliva and spit, just to be sure.

Sheathing her knives, she checked their pockets and scooped up the odds and ends she'd found. Max looked up as she brought them over to him. He was glad to see she'd taken some clothes for herself. She handed the flashlight back and he used it to check what she'd found. He had to pick out a few of her choices, tossing them aside, but most of what she'd found was usable.

“Good,” he praised, motioning her towards the car. She dumped the odds and ends into the back, finding a random bag that seemed good enough. Max checked their boots and jackets, taking them all and tossing them into the back. They were in good condition, hadn't seen much wear and tear yet. He didn't want to think about where the patches had come from.

“They have a car?” She nodded. “Any supplies?” She shook her head.

“Don't need supplies, they regroup with the search party. Might have some guns, but not much. Fire's bad.” Max raised an eyebrow at her, but it was a little lost in the dark.

“We'll grab what we can.”

_We?_ his mind echoed. What the hell is this 'we'? Why was he bringing the girl with him? Why was he even thinking it, much less doing it? He should give her a few things of food, throw her in the other car, and let her fend for herself.

_Does she even know how to drive?_ How the hell was that any of his concern? If she couldn't drive she could run, she could do that just fine. It wasn't Max's problem, he didn't need to deal with this girl anymore, he didn't need to....

“...They called you goddess,” he said, and the girl froze up. He saw the flash of danger in her body language, watched her defenses snap up so hard they had to hurt.

“I'm not,” she choked hotly, shoulders tight. “I'm not a goddess.” Max heard the hurt in her voice, the raw pain she was trying to smother. Max hesitated, then nodded. He needed to ask more, but not right now.

“All right.” The girl retrieved the blanket from the alcove and Max climbed into car. He left the door open, and for a moment the girl just stood there and stared at him. He stared back at her. Even he wasn't sure how he wanted to proceed, if he wanted to let her in or if he wanted to shut the door and leave her. His life would be much easier without her. Hell of a lot easier considering how tied she was to the damn cult. One less mouth to feed too.

And then he motioned her into the car. Still hesitant, she climbed in and slammed the door shut behind her. Max started the car and pulled out of the cave. They found the scouters' car and stripped it of anything useful. There were a few weapons and some easy to scavenge engine parts. They tossed them into the Interceptor and climbed back in. Max drove them out of the mountain ridge and turned south by southwest. He tapped his compass to check their direction. The girl peeked up to watch, frowning a little. Her eyes widened in panic.

“We can't go west,” she said forcefully. Max checked their surroundings before easing to a stop. It sounded like they had to talk, and he didn't want his attention split between her and the road.

“There's a pass in the mountains,” he explained. “Gonna go southwest, around their territory, hit the mountains and go north-”

“We can't go through that pass,” she interrupted. “Pass is theirs, they have Eyes hidden there all over the place. Won't let you through. Not with me gone. Even if they did, they'll check the car, find me, kill you.”

...Well, shit. Clem hadn't told Max that. Max rubbed his chin.

“...Can we out drive them?” The girl pressed her lips together. It was clear she didn't want to go back towards the territory, and Max didn't blame her. If she lied to him to keep him from going west though.... He might have to kick her out.

“Girl,” he prompted.

“Maybe,” she finally said. “But I don't think so. Pass is rocky, twisty, they'll have bikes, more maneuverable. Don't know the pass road well either. Always went through footpaths and over mountains, not through pass.”

“You've been through there?” She looked over at him, and he saw a hardness in her eyes.

“Not the first time I've tried to leave them.” Max kept his expression neutral, but his stomach twisted at the thought.

“No,” he muttered, turning his eyes forward, “guess it wouldn't be.” She looked down at her hands. Sighing through his nose, Max leaned back in his seat in thought. The girl rubbed her fingertips together.

“...We could go east to the towns,” she said hesitantly. “Militia's settlements. There'd be more protection there, the-”

“You don't wanna go there,” Max said. The girl looked up at him in confusion. Max shook his head. “Militia's looking for you too.”

“What?”

“Saw them when I passed through the town, came right after a group of those-” He waved a hand.

“Redeemers,” she supplied. He raised an eyebrow at her and stored the question away for later.

“Redeemers,” he said, “came through looking for you. General said if anyone found you, he wanted you brought to 'im.”

“Why?”

“You tell me. Those boys were calling you goddess; your religion actually believe that?”

“ _Not_ my religion,” she said viciously. He held up a hand to placate her, backing up.

“Sorry. Redeemers actually believe that?” Her hand moved to cover the wound on her side.

“...Yes,” she said at length.

“So you're important to them.” She nodded. “Then the General wants you as a bargaining chip.”

“Why?” she asked again.

“Why don't the militia attack the Redeemers?” She looked down at her lap, frowning a little as she rubbed the wound. He could see the moment realization entered her head.

“Ivan the Prophet.”

“Who's Ivan?”

“No, he's not-” She shook her head. “He's not a 'he', not really, he's a...bomb.” Max jerked, staring at the girl. Whatever answer he'd been expecting, 'bomb' was not on the list.

“A _bomb_?” he echoed. She nodded, looking up at him.

“One of the bombs that burned the world.”

“A _nuclear_ bomb?”

“Think so, yeah.” So many questions came up over that statement that Max didn't even know where to begin. At least it helped a lot of things make sense, like why the militia and the cult had the truce at all. It also helped put into perspective exactly how far down the crazy road the cult had gone – or started at.

Opening his mouth, he tried to form a question. Too many popped up at once, and he took some time to reorganize them. He needed to know if the cult would actually trade their prophet for the goddess – which of course they would. He also needed to know if the bomb was still active. What came out of his mouth though was-

“Why is your prophet a _bomb_.” She made a noise and gestured.

“It's- he didn't go off when the other bombs did. Joseph, founded the religion and he said it...things about man and fire and- Ivan isn't like the rest of fire, he chose to be peaceful so, he's a prophet.”

There was also too much there to unpack. Max really didn't _want_ to do it, but at some point Max would have to have the girl explain the religion to him. For now, he had to think about their immediate situation.

“...Okay,” he said at length, still processing. “Can they still detonate...Ivan?” She nodded.

“Tenant. Someone kills me, I fall or, something unnatural, I die, the Burning will set him off.”

Of course. Of _course_ it was a tenant that if the girl they were eating alive died, they would detonate a nuclear bomb. Fuck crazy religious cults, fuck 'em all, Max was so tired of dealing with them. Turning the car off, Max put his elbows on the steering wheel and rested his face in his hands. Fucking stupid crazy bastards. Smegs, the lot of them.

“...Are you going to give me back?” Max picked his head up and looked over at the girl. She looked so vulnerable and uncertain, trying to keep up a brave face and be strong while she was so terrified.

_We should_ , his selfish side thought, vicious in its desire to survive. _We should hand her back to the cult, or over to the militia. We could even trick her into it, she trusts us._

It was a practical thought; the consequences of involving himself any more were too much. He could end up dead, either stabbed, shot, or blown up in a nuclear blast. Hell, even if he tried to get away he might not make it out of the blast range before everything reached a head. He didn't need more trouble on his plate.

_You'd hand her over just like you wanted to hand over the Sisters?_ The thought made him feel sick, and he saw Splendid's scarred and bleeding face in front of him.

_Just like you wanted to give us back to Joe? Just like you wanted to give us back to that bastard? You know what would have happened to us!_ If he'd waited for Joe to catch them, handed the Sisters over to him, they would have gone back to being objects, prisoners, property, only now with a chain around their neck instead of their leg. Joe would have executed Furiosa on the spot. And Max wouldn't have cared. He would have just cared about his own survival.

_She's not just some thing Max!_ Splendid accused. _She's not a thing! You know what they'll do to her!_

The cult would eat her, biting off pieces of her and acting like she's some sort of goddess. Drowning her with empty words of praise and divinity while she screamed in pain. If the militia got her, she would just be a bargaining chip. They would trade her for a bomb, maybe hold her hostage until they got it and then kill her in front of the cult.

Two warring images clashed in his head.  One had her chained up in a room of silk and finery, screaming as tattooed men and boys ate her alive. The other had her kneeling in the desert, hands behind her back, throat slit open and eyes turning dead.

_You know what they'll do to her!_ Splendid yelled, and Max felt like he was going to throw up. The car was too tight, too stifling, too suffocating. He groped along the door for the handle. Grabbing it, he shoved the door open with his shoulder and stumbled out. He couldn't breathe. Splendid advanced on him, right at his side and yelling into his good ear.

_You'd just give her over to those monsters! You'd let them hurt her and kill her just to save your sorry stupid head for a few more months, a few more days!_ He twisted away from her, trying to get away and knowing he couldn't. She wouldn't let up.

_You useless, worthless smeg! You're the lowest kind of bastard! How many people are you going to let die? How many of them are you going to push into_ **death** _?_ He watched her go under the wheels, dark red blood running down her leg, pretty fair skin disappearing under the dark maw of the car.

_How many of us?_ Glory hissed next, and he stumbled back from her. She stood before him, nasty skeletal smile. In his head she turned away from the cars, pale eyes wide and curly dark hair whipping about her face. The car didn't swerve like Joe's had. It ran up on her and hit her, crushing her under the too big tires. Max felt sick.

_How many of us are going to die because of you Max?_ Glory goaded. Then her voice turned loud, raw and angry. _How many of us!_

_You're filth! She's not a thing Max! You'd give her to them knowing what they'd do! You'll kill her just like you wanted to kill us! Just like you wanted to hand us over! They'll come and you'll throw her to them like she's nothing!_

_Kill her just like you killed us! Kill her and run away, keep running, run for the rest of your miserable life! She'll be in good company, running after you with us when you throw her to the wolves!_

_I wouldn't,_ Max thought, wishing he could fend them off rather than just run from them. _I wouldn't give her up, I...I didn't give up the Sisters, I didn't give up Furiosa. I didn't give up anyone. It's not my fault!_

_You would have!_ Splendid roared. _You tried to! You only stopped because Furiosa offered you something you wanted! You would have given us back to Joe! You're scum!_

_You'll kill her too,_ Glory hissed, and Max reeled, grabbing his ears and trying to block it all out. _Murderer, you just let everyone die!_

_You're scum! You're fucking scum!_ He could see the girl again, dying, eaten alive, throat slit, crushed under the wheels of a monstrous car, looking to him with panic, reaching for him, then her eyes turning cold and hateful and rotted, her face a skeleton, standing alongside Splendid and Glory, screaming at him, blaming him, chasing him-

“ _Snap out of it_!” Sharp pain across his face, and with a hard jerk, Max snapped back into reality. He blinked to clear the images out of his vision. Once he could see again, his eyes darted around in confusion. He was on the ground, half-supported by the girl as she cradled him. Her hand was still raised from where she'd slapped him. She looked as terrified and confused as he felt. When his eyes focused on her again, she awkwardly patted his shoulder.

“It's okay,” she said, trying to sound soothing. “It's...it's okay. Nothing there. There's nothing there, okay? You're okay.” He swallowed, head lolling back as he kept looking around. His heart was still hammering in his chest, and he didn't trust himself to stand just yet. She moved to stroking his hair in shaky, uneven strokes. It was awkward but still soothing in a way. After a few moments she managed to figure out the rhythm of his breathing and match it. It helped him calm down.

“It's okay,” she said again. “You're okay, I promise. There's nothing there. It's just me. You're okay.” She kept up the litany, pitching her voice low and soft after a few tries. Max let himself lie there as he calmed down. Human contact made him twitchy. Usually after an episode like that, the last thing he wanted was someone touching him or even around him. The last time he'd felt okay in someone else's presence after an episode had been on the road with Furiosa. It had been a nightmare, not quite a full episode, but it had still helped.

Lying half in the girl's lap, even with her obvious inexperience, was better than being on his own. Breathing out, Max shifted and looked up at her. She took her hands away and helped him up into a sitting position. They sat side by side in silence, staring out at the white sand and attending to their own thoughts. The sun beat down on them. It surrounded them with heat and lulled them into a comfortable, dazed state. After a while, the girl bumped him with her shoulder. Max tilted his head towards her in acknowledgment but didn't speak. She didn't ask either, just leaned against him. He braced himself and let her lean on him.

Max shifted again after a few minutes, and she sat up.

“Should get moving,” Max grunted. She nodded and stood, dusting herself off before turning and offering a hand to Max. He accepted it and let her pull him up off the ground.

“Where are we going,” she asked. Her eyes held suspicion and worry. Rolling his shoulders out, Max looked around them.

“...What are the passes out of the valley?”

“West, south-southeast, east, and northeast.”

“East and northeast controlled by the militia?” She nodded. “West by the Redeemers.” Another nod. “Who controls the southeast?”

“No one I know of.”

“You headed for the southeast pass?” She shook her head this time.

“No. East an' northeast passes. I thought since militia controlled them....” She shrugged.

“Mm. Good thing I found you first then.” She nodded. “All right. We'll go for the southeast pass.” She breathed a shaky sigh of relief, nodding quickly. They crawled back into the car, the girl going in first and settling in on the passenger side. Max tapped the compass and started the car, turning them southeast. It would be a bit of a drive before they reached the pass. Max wasn't particularly interested in conversation, and neither was the girl. He could have had that talk about her religion now, but he wanted to put that off for as long as possible.

There was one thing he wanted to get out of the way though.

“Max,” he said, having to clear his throat a little. She looked up at him. “My name is Max,” he clarified.

“...Max,” she said after a bit, trying to hide a secret smile behind her hand. It was nice to have someone say his name – who wasn't a ghost. He couldn't remember how long it had been. He'd told Furiosa, but since she and the other women hadn't needed to use it, they didn't. It was almost like a weight lifted off his chest, something painful and prickly letting go. He breathed a little easier.

“What about you.” She glanced up at him, confused. “Name. Your name.” Confusion shifted to surprise and then a deep-seated uncertainty.

“I uh...I don't think I have one,” she admitted. Max grimaced. Ah, hell. They really _did_ need to have a serious conversation about that religion of hers.

“What did the Redeemers call you?”

“Goddess.” Right.

“What do you want to be called.” She frowned in thought, reaching up to tug on her bangs a little. She looked up at him again.

“Is there something wrong with what you called me before?”

“Girl?” he clarified. She nodded. “...No,” he said after a moment of thought, “I guess there isn't.”

“Then Girl is fine.” They were going to have to have a serious talk soon. Damn it. Max wondered if he could shrug the responsibility off onto Furiosa and the Sisters. That was too dark a road to go down right now. Maybe later. Much, much later.


	4. Chapter Four

They reached a settlement around midday, stopping on a high dune first to look around. Neither of them could see any signs of the militia or Eyes. They still felt cautious as they drove down. Max gave up his bandanna so Girl could use it to cover her face. Some of the tattoos were still visible, but her bangs helped to hide what the mask didn't. They wouldn't be stopping at all if they didn't need a little more food.

Max kept food with just himself in mind, knowing his limitations and how much he could survive on. He hadn't counted on having a semi-starving girl along for the journey. With her in mind, he didn't trust that he'd have enough food to reach the next sign of life outside the valley.

So they needed to stop, much as he would have liked to drive straight through to the southeast pass. At least it gave them a chance to get out and stretch their legs.

Finding the trading outpost, Max pulled up just outside and killed the engine.

“Stay by the car,” he ordered. Her eyes narrowed, and he recognized the starting flicker of petulant rebellion. He was torn on his feelings for it. On the one hand, it would be good for her. It would keep her from submitting to people who didn't have her best interests in mind. It was also something he didn't want to deal with.

“I mean it,” he said, pointing a warning finger at her. “Don't want something bad happening to you.” Girl huffed, but she nodded.

“Okay.”

“Knives?” She tugged her jacket aside to show the knives attached to her belt. “Good.” He climbed out, slamming the door shut as she mirrored him on the other side. He had his bag of tradeable goods slung over his shoulder. Hopefully it would be enough. The girl wandered around the car, looking at the buildings with interest. Max tried to keep an eye on her as he went inside.

It was more bar than trading post, but that was expected. Most trading posts were like that. Max nodded to the man behind the counter. In the backroom he could see two women washing dishes and scrap metal in a basin of filthy water. One was an older woman, slightly hunched in the shoulder and wide in the hips. The other was younger with tan skin and black hair down to her waist. He could hear the sounds of someone out back; a son, if he had to hazard a guess. He came up to the counter and set his bag on worn wood.

“What are you trading for food.”

“What kind are you looking for,” the man asked, but he was already poking around in the shelves at his feet.

_There's a choice other than 'edible'?_

“Anything that keeps and travels.” The man sifted through a few cans, counting things out.

“For food...any kind of metal wire, ammo, batteries, clothes.” Max thought to the jackets and boots in the car. He glanced into the backroom again. The girl was barefoot, but that didn't surprise him. She wasn't likely to be the one to go out and go gathering, more staying home and defending the house. Few people likely to attack would be the types to risk a young woman like that. Whoever was out back though....

“Might have a pair of boots for your son,” Max said, reaching into the bag to pull out a few coils of steel wire. The man gave him an immediate, suspicious look.

“How'd you know about him,” he said lowly, body tense. Max motioned to the backroom.

“Wife and daughter, door's not closed, body language says you're not worried about her, not from anyone here. Another man, even a brother or cousin, nephew, might be a little protective, not even think about it. You're not, so son. Maybe her husband.” The man relaxed, even looking a little impressed.

“Got your second guess right, gringo. He's my son in law.” Max shrugged a little. He couldn't be right all the time.

“Might have a pair of boots for your son in law,” he corrected. The man motioned to him, and Max headed back to the door.

“Hey Girl,” he called. She looked over, perking up. “Get the bigger pair of boots out of the trunk.” She was quick to dart over and grab the boots, crossing the road to bring them to him. He hooked his fingers over the backs and nodded.

“Back to the car,” he ordered, and she snorted at him. She did as he said though. Going back inside, Max put the boots on the counter. The man checked them over, examining their quality before nodding to himself.

“Good boots. Give you a good amount of food for them?” Max nodded, holding up one of the wires.

“For these too?”

“Sure, one sec.” The man piled quite a few cans on the counter, a stack of protein bars, and even a little sack of roasted meat. He pulled out a cardboard box, watching Max check each item before sorting them into the box. He wasn't offended that Max checked everything first.

“Just you and the girl out there?”

“Mm.”

“Where you headed.”

“Out of the valley.”

“Good idea. Next big caravan through here, gonna put the family on it.”

“Good idea,” Max echoed. Goosebumps broke out on the back of his neck, danger senses going off. He couldn't see what had set them off as he peered around, looking at the windows that faced the front of the store. The man seemed to sense it too, whatever it was.

“Best get a move on outsider,” he cautioned. “Somethin' don't feel right.” Max hurried through checking the items, tossing them into the box. He cursed himself for leaving Girl outside. He had the gun, but the box was too heavy to carry with one arm. If he'd brought her in, she could have carried it while he kept an eye out.

“Call the girl over?” the man suggested just as Max set the box on the counter. He was moving towards the backdoor to call in his son in law. Max didn't answer, crossing the room to the front. Just as he reached the handle, he saw what his head was warning him about. An armored car from the militia sped down the street.

_Keep driving, please keep driving-_

The girl, kneeling in the desert, throat slit and eyes turning dead-

She was on edge, moving back around the car towards the building and trying not to be too obvious. The car screeched to a halt beside the Interceptor. Max yanked the door open just as soldiers jumped out, eyes intent on her.

“Girl!” Max called, pulling the pistol out of his waistband. She dropped to give him a good shot, and he fired, hitting one of the soldiers in the neck. Everything amped up. The soldiers dropped behind cover, but they had their own guns and poked their heads out to fire. Max couldn't keep them down with just his pistol and ducked behind cover. They swarmed, some even coming from behind the trading post. All their attention seemed focused on Girl.

One of them managed to grab her and tear the handkerchief off.

“It's her!” he yelled, just before she punched him in the throat. Max tried to hit the group swarming around her, killing a few before they forced him back. Girl was trying to hold her own, pulling out her knives and lashing out, but they had more training and body armor.

“Keep the outsider back!”

“Get the girl!”

Panic started to set in. Adrenaline pumped into his system and cold fear gripped his spine. He was going to lose her. They were going to take her, and she was going to die because he couldn't protect her.

Max peeled back from the wall and fired, trying to get some of them off of her. They were trying to grab her and pin her arms without killing her. Their guns were either holstered or swung over their backs. Max managed to shoot one in the back of the head, bullet punching through his helmet. Girl ducked down to get out of his line of fire, but that only put her at a disadvantage trying to fight them off.

One of them grabbed her arm, and she wrenched to the side, out of Max's sight. Without thinking, he stepped out of cover to get a better angle on them. A shot grazed his temple, and another hit him in the side. He got off another shot, but he was already falling back. He hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

“Max!” Girl screamed. She ran for him, but a soldier grabbed her from behind and hauled her up. She thrashed in his grip, stabbing him in the arm.

“Fuck! Give me a hand here!” More soldiers ran up to help him, and she kicked out at them.

“Let go of me!” she screamed. Her eyes searched for Max, just able to catch glimpses of his prone form in the doorway. “Max! Max, get up! Max!” She twisted around enough to bite one of them when he got too close to her face.

“Fuck, she's biting me!”

“Tie her up, get her into the vehicle!” She fought as hard as she could, lashing out with teeth and knives and kicking whatever she could reach. For a second she got free, but one of the soldiers grabbed her and slammed her head into the frame of the Interceptor. He pinned her against it, kicking a leg between hers. She braced her weight with her hands and knees and shoved back against him. It almost knocked him off kilter, but one of his squad mates grabbed her wrist and yanked it out from under her. Her chin banged against the car. Her teeth bit down on her tongue hard enough to draw blood, and she coughed out a mouthful to keep from choking on it.

The soldier twisted her arms behind her back and held her in place, cuffing her wrists together.

“Max!” she yelled, struggling. “Max, help!” They pulled her back from the car, and she threw herself back against the one behind her. They were swarming though, grabbing at her. She managed to kick one down to where she could drive her heel into his face.

“Get off me!” They got hold of her and started dragging her towards the armored car. She dug her heels into the dirt and threw her weight back.

“Get her legs and pick her up!” She yanked her foot out of their grasp and kicked one in the chest. She dropped her weight and managed to surprise the soldier into letting go. Shoving herself up, she lunged for the building and Max. They caught her before she could get out from the middle of them.

“Max! Get up Max, please! _Max_!”

 _You're losing her,_ Glory murmured in his ear. _You're losing her just like you lost Jessie, just like you lost Splendid, just like you lost me. You're losing her and she's going to die because you can't save her._

Max couldn't hear anything other than the girl yelling for him. Everything else washed out into a ringing. He wasn't thinking, running on pure instinct. Getting up, he shot one of the soldiers in the back of the neck. He jumped over the counter and grabbed the rifle the trader had stashed there. The man was just going for it himself, son in law behind him with a pistol in hand. Max didn't ask to take the rifle, and the trader didn't stop him.

They were firing into the building again. Bullets hit and splintered the wood, shattering glass bottles on the wall behind them. Max waited for a lull before standing and firing again. He got one of the soldiers carrying the girl, but they didn't stop dragging her towards the car. They started firing at the building again, and he had to duck.

“Move, move, move!” one of the soldiers yelled. The soldiers and Girl were out of his sight when he stood again, but they hadn't all moved back. He kept firing, hitting two before vaulting over the counter. His left knee gave out on the impact and forced him to the ground. Overwhelming pain clouded his mind and made it hard to draw breath.

He could hear her though, yelling and screaming and fighting with everything she had. Forcing himself to stand, Max pushed the pain out of his head and staggered for the door. He couldn't give up on her, couldn't let them take her.

Back against the door to brace himself, he hefted the rifle and fired at the soldiers. They were providing cover fire for their squad-mates carrying Girl to the car. Bullets hit the door by his head and he jerked away from them. His leg gave out on him again and he grabbed the windowsill to keep himself upright. The broken glass cut through his glove and into his palm, but the pain didn't register.

“Max!” the girl called, kicking out as much as she could, but they had picked her up and were shoving her into the car. She caught a soldier's nose with her heel. They dragged her into the backseat and shoved her down onto the floor.

“ _Max_!” she screamed, cramped and pinned by the lack of space. She craned her neck to try and see, make sure Max was at least still alive.

“Let's go, let's go!” someone yelled, jumping into the driver's seat. A soldier climbed in and slammed the door shut, and the engine gunned. She couldn't see anything out of the windows but sky, nothing that would actually help her. Anger boiled her blood and she wrenched herself out of the cramped space. She kicked and bit everything she could.

“Fucking bastards, let me go! _Let me go_!” One of the men kicked her hard in the ribs, and another brought the butt of his rifle down on her temple. Her head snapped to the side, and she felt sick. She twisted her hands, trying to find a weakness in the handcuffs. He struck her in the head again, and again, and it finally went dark.

Max watched the door slam shut on the armored car and something in him snapped. His ears rang too loud, the sun was too bright, and he was completely detached. Nothing registered anymore. He leveled the rifle and fired shot after shot. One soldier in the neck, another in the knee, shattered the back window of the armored car. He kept firing until he had to stop to run after the car, sprinting down the road after them. Her screams echoed in his head.

_Max! Get up! Help, please! Please get up! Max!_

_Not again, not again, not again, not again-_ The car was too fast, and he stopped to shoot out one of the tires. Taking careful aim, he pulled the trigger and-

Click.

He jolted, nausea and frustration and anger and despair welling up in him all at once.

“No!” He threw the rifle after them, useless anger, and started running again. They were too far away, he knew they were too far away. The trance faded and the pain came back, stabbing through his leg and side. He couldn't think, and his stomach twisted until he had to lean over and throw up in the sand. His leg gave up and he collapsed, holding himself up with one hand. His other hand pressed to the wound on his side.

_No, no, no, no-_

_Lost another one?_ Glory whispered, crouched beside him, lips brushing against his ear. She talked into his good ear, knew better than to talk into his right one. _Another death to haunt you, another person's blood on your hands. How many have to die, Max? How many people? Who else has to die before you just-_

Knife across his neck and down his wrists, blood staining the sand deep red. His life leaving his body in a matter of seconds.

_Stop._

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head like a dog. “No, no, no, not again.” His stomach lurched and he heaved into the sand again. His retching pulled on the wound on his side. He felt caught between the horrible pain and the need to throw up.

“Outsider, hey, outsider! You okay!” Dizzy, Max looked back over his shoulder to see the son in law jogging towards him. He was wearing the boots Max had left on the counter and had the rifle in his hand. He slowed as he neared, approaching Max warily.

“You okay?” Max spat out a mouthful of bile, rubbing his head to try and clear the cloudiness.

“I...she's....” He motioned helplessly to the way the soldiers had gone. The young man hooked his hands under his arms, hefting him up off the ground.

“Come on, Kay can patch you up.” He pulled Max's arm over his shoulder and half-dragged him back towards the trading post. When Max's leg and side gave him too much trouble, he picked Max up and carried him the rest of the way. The trader and his wife were trying to clean up. They swept up splinters, glass, and pieces of shrapnel scattered all over the post.

“Da, I got the outsider.” The old man brushed off one of the tables and motioned his son-in-law over.

“Here, put him down here.” The son set him down. Max had been still and quiet the entire walk, trying not to listen to the voices in his head. Glory, Splendid, Jesse, they hissed at him for his failure. They blamed him for Girl's death, fed him images already burned into his brain. He was trying his hardest not to throw up again.

“Kay!” the trader called. The young woman stuck her head out from the kitchen.

“Did you find the outsider?”

“Yeah, he's pretty banged up though,” her husband reported. “The militia took the girl.” Kay grabbed a bag and hurried over. Her parents had swept a clean path for her to cross and not cut her feet.

“Hey,” she soothed, leaning over him. “Hey, are you okay? Can you speak?” Max jerked at the soft touch on the side of his face, body tensing and a pained grunt leaving him.

“He didn't talk much when he was fine, don't think he'll talk much more with a bullet in him,” the trader noted. Kay touched Max's shoulder next.

“I'm just going to bandage your wounds, okay?” Max made a half-choked off noise, but it was close enough to acknowledgment that Kay started. She started with the bullet wound. Peeling his shirt away from the damage, she used a pair of clean tweezers to dig out the bullet. She stitched the hole up with deft fingers. It would have hurt, a lot even, if Max hadn't been full up on pain already.

He stared at the ceiling while Kay worked, hands clenched into tight fists. The ghosts wouldn't stop whispering to him, hissing and screaming until he thought his head might burst. It was taking all his willpower not to lash out at everyone around him. He wanted to fight. He needed to get away from his past, from people, from the dead and the living from just...everything.

 _I can still save her._ The thought was a blessed anchor, something to cling to and ground him in the sea of self-hatred, guilt, and fear. _I can still save her. If I find the base, find where they're keeping her, I can get her out before they kill her or give her back to the cult. She won't die, she won't get eaten. She won't die, she won't get eaten. I can save her. I can save her. I can save her._

But the mantra was almost as bad as the voices, almost as all consuming. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block it all out: the voices trying to kill him, and the obsessive mantra trying to assuage the ghosts. His heart was beating too fast, not getting enough air into his lungs.

Empty, he just needed his head to be _empty_. Clear for just a few moments, for a minute, for ten seconds, for just one fucking-

“Outsider?” Snapping back to himself, Max startled and almost swung his arm to hit the woman standing over him. She yanked back, and her husband put out an arm as protection. Max swallowed thickly, dropping his arm back to the table.

“Sorry,” he croaked, still trying to slow his heart rate.

“It's okay,” she said, patting her husband's shoulder and coming back to Max's side. “We just...we thought we had lost you for a moment there. You were staring at the ceiling, and then you had your eyes closed and you were barely breathing.”

“Sorry,” he said again, and he didn't know why. He pushed himself up, wincing at the various pains in his body. The bullet wound felt like a deep bruise now, body too numb to register the different kinds of pain. She had cleaned and bandaged his temple, as well as his hand. He couldn't make much of a fist, and he spent a few moments stretching his hand back and forth.

“Oh don't do that,” Kay sighed. “You'll pull the stitches out.” He grimaced a little at the idea of stitches in his hand. He needed his hands to be flexible, needed his fists and the ability to pull a trigger.

“Need the full use of my hand,” he countered, but he was more careful with his stretching. Finally, he was able to curl it in completely. He couldn't stretch it out all the way, but that wasn't as much of a problem.

“If you pop the stitches, I'm not putting them back in,” Kay warned, arms crossed over her chest. Max grunted. Swinging his legs over the side, he tested the weight on his bad leg and stood. He ached all over, and he would most likely have a limp for a few days. Hopefully it wouldn't stop him from driving.

Even if it tried, he wouldn't let it.

“I'm going after her,” he said, looking at Kay and her family. She didn't back down.

“You're in no position to go after anyone, much less after a bunch of men with guns.” Looking her in the eyes, Max tried to communicate his determination.

“I'm going after her,” he said more firmly. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You're in no condition,” she repeated.

 _Just give up,_ Glory whispered. _Let her die. Let her become one of us._ Max wanted to flinch, jerk away from the voice, raise his arm to block it out. He couldn't drop his eyes from Kay though.

“I don't go after her, she dies.”

“You don't know that,” Kay said, and uncertainty crept into her tone.

“They came for her with guns, Kay,” her husband pointed out. “They almost killed us all to grab her. You can't think they're doing anything good with her.” Kay frowned in concern.

“I know that, but-” Max grabbed his bag, dropped it into the box of supplies, and carried them out to the Interceptor. “Hey, outsider, wait-” He didn't stop, throwing the box into the trunk. Kay followed him out.

“Outsider! Look, you can't just go running off after the militia!”

“You protectin' them?” Max countered and turned to stare her down. She pulled up short.

“I- no, of course not. I'd never try to protect those low-lives.”

“Then what's stoppin' me.”

“Their- their _guns_ , your _wounds_ , you're in no _shape_ to-”

“Kay,” her husband interjected, wrapping a hand around her shoulder. She looked up at him, scowled, and then threw her hands in the air as she cursed in another language. Max grabbed his ammo bag and started reloading his pistol as she stalked back to the trading post. Her husband leaned against the Interceptor, looking down at Max.

“Listen outsider, Kay's right. I'm sure that girl's important to you, but you're one man who's just taken a beating, and you wanna go up against a whole militia, armed to the teeth and defended up on their ridge. I just don't see you comin' out on top in that.”

“Can't sit an' do nothing,” Max grunted, checking that the rest of his guns were loaded.

“So you're just going to get yourself killed?” Tossing the rifle into the seat beside him, Max looked up at the young man.

“What would you do?” he asked seriously, wanting to know just what the hell everyone expected him to do in this situation. The young man actually seemed surprised at the question, pulling back a bit.

“I...I don't know,” he admitted.

“Then get off my car,” Max said, pointedly looking to where the young man had his hand on top of the Interceptor. The man did as he was told and shifted his weight back. “And tell me where the militia base is.”

“...It's in the northeast of the valley, up on a ridge that overlooks their settlements.” Max closed the door and started the engine. Driving with his leg giving him trouble was going to be a pain and a half, but there were worse things for it. Probably.

“Don't do this outsider,” the young man asked again, but there was no conviction in his voice.

“Pack up your family and leave as soon as you can,” Max advised. “Nothing worth living for here.”

“...Be careful, outsider. Good luck.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with torture, so if that kind of thing sets you off easily, proceed with caution!

Girl felt sick as she came to. The nausea was overwhelming, settled deep in her core. Lying on her stomach wasn't helpful. Groaning a little, she shifted to roll onto her side. She couldn't pull her arms from behind her back. Her legs wouldn't move apart either.

Conscious thought trickled back into her head. She peered around blearily. Her vision was fuzzy, and there was a dark spot hovering in the upper right hand corner of what she could see. She could see enough to get her bearings though. She was in a cell of sorts, rough stone and sandy floor. A barred, metal door kept her trapped. The nausea made it up her throat and she tried to push herself up enough to retch.

Max.

She hiccuped, throwing up onto the sand. Her head pounded from the exertion and made her dizzy. Anger and hate flitted at the edge of her mind. She wasn't able to focus on it while pain and nausea were still in control.

It faded as more memories came back.

_Max_.

Jerking her hands, she used her shoulders to brace herself and get her knees under herself. She remembered getting to the trading post and everything before. After that, almost everything turned dark and fuzzy. One image felt burned into her mind. Max, falling back as blood poured down his face, then lying on the ground and completely still. All she knew beyond that was a vague sense that he'd managed to get up, and the desperate taste of his name on her lips.

_I'll kill them_ , her mind hissed, sudden and fierce.

Them, who were they? Where was she?

_It doesn't matter_. It didn't matter. She would tear their throats from them with her teeth.

Someone moved beyond the barred door and she shifted her knees apart to brace herself better. Her jacket and handkerchief were gone, but she still had her shirt on at least.

Two men were talking by the door, and she moved quickly. Rolling onto her side, she pulled her legs up against her chest as close as possible. She arched her back and hooked her hands under her heels. It took a bit of squirming and straining, but she managed to get enough slack to slide her hands under her feet. Her legs weren't handcuffed, just tied by thick rope, and she hurried to get it off.

She could hear the jingling of keys just as she loosened the rope and kicked it off. One of the men – a soldier – unlocked the door. The other soldier peered in and frowned.

“Wait, what's she-” Getting her feet under her, she charged at the door and rammed into it. It swung open straight into the face of the one with the keys and she jumped on the other one.

_Bite kill kill bite spill his blood kill him get out kill him!_ She looped the handcuff chain around the back of his neck to anchor herself. Digging her thumbs into his cheeks, she forced his head back and bit down on his exposed throat. He screamed, grabbing her hair and scrambling to get her off. She bit as hard as she could and held on with a vice grip.

“Prisoner's escaping, prisoner's escaping!” someone yelled from down the hall. She shook her head and tore open his skin, teeth shredding open his artery. He gurgled and fell to his knees, tipping over backwards just as she pulled the chain back over his head. Behind him, soldiers were running down the hall towards her. Behind her was just a dead end. Baring her teeth, she charged at the line of soldiers.

They outnumbered her, and once past the shock of her attacking head on, they were better fighters. Even so, she had sheer ferocity on her side. She also had another advantage. Where they were trying not to kill her, she didn't have that limitation.

Girl bit and clawed at everything she could reach, kicking and lashing out when they got too close. She managed to kill another one, tearing at his throat. On another man, she tried clawing apart his face. Her fingers caught against his cheekbone and she punched her thumb through his eye.

Then a soldier got a good kick in on her wounded side and she dropped to the ground, gasping at the pain. He kicked her in the head next. She rolled, trying to crawl away and clear the dizzy spots out of her vision. Someone grabbed her by the hair and yanked her up onto her knees.

“Get her hands cuffed behind her back again!”

“The fuck good is that gonna do? She'll just get out again.”

“God fucking damn that bitch, I'll smash her fucking head in!”

“Hey, calm down private! You know what the general said!”

“At least tie her legs again, she kicks like a fucking mule.”

“Take her to the isolation chamber, we can chain her down there.”

She wrenched against the arms holding her, falling to her side and kicking out again. She caught someone's knee and snapped it with a satisfying sound.

“Fuck, get her legs, get her legs!” A whole group of them fell on her now and pinned her wrists to the floor. Two soldiers grabbed her legs and one of them sat on her chest so she couldn't breathe.

“Someone get a fucking muzzle!”

“Get the keys to her handcuffs, we'll take her to the isolation chamber and chain her up.”

“Do you see this shit? She took a bite out of my face!” She snarled and thrashed against them. She tried to pull her legs free to kick, tried to get her hands back, tried to bite the one sitting on her chest.

“Christ she's wild.”

“Think the general will break her?”

“Think he'd rather slit her throat.” Girl finally yanked her arms free just as she kicked off one of the soldiers holding her leg. She kicked him again and again, twisting to kick the one on her other leg in the head. She shoved the soldier on her chest off and pushed up before they could pin her again. One of them tried to stop her and she dug her fingers into his throat.

“Shit, get her off him!” She dragged the man around by the throat, turning and shoving him into the other soldiers. Just as she pushed him out of the way, a large hand grabbed the side of her head and smashed it into the rocky wall. Her brain rattled around inside of her skull. Everything turned dark and twisted in and out of focus for a few seconds at a time. Her fingers pulled slowly against the sand. The ringing in her head drowned out everything else.  She felt like throwing up again.

She shook her head haltingly, trying to shrug off the ringing and the blurriness. It only made her head pound worse. Sluggishly, she pushed up onto her hands and knees. She felt like she was tilting to the side and put out a hand to brace against the wall. Sounds started to come back to her, distinguishing from the tone in her head.

“-trained soldiers, you should be able to handle one girl.”

“Yes Major!”

“Someone get me the keys for her handcuffs and a muzzle. Everyone else, take the wounded to the infirmary and clear these bodies out of here.”

“Yes Major!” She tried to crawl away. Her instincts were in control, even when she wanted to slip back into unconsciousness.

The big man, Major, grabbed her by the back of her shirt and hauled her up. Her feet slid uselessly against the sand. He turned her to face him, crouched, and picked her up over his massive shoulder. She couldn't get her mind together to fight, hands just clutching at his shirt.

Just as she managed to blink the twists and tilts out of her vision, the Major put her down on the ground. She couldn't pull away before he locked a set of shackles around her wrists. Belatedly, she yanked back and away, but the shackles held. She had enough slack to stand, but she couldn't get her legs to be stable.

“Major, the muzzle.” She jerked her head back, but the Major grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her forward.

“Get it around her head.” Snarling, she tried to shake herself out of his grip. He hit her in the face with the heel of his palm and readjusted his hold. She coughed, mouth filling with blood, but she snarled and shoved herself up. He had to hold fast to keep her on her knees. She thrashed, trying to shake him loose, to get free, but he struck her face again. She spit a mixture of spit and blood into his face. His dark eyes bored into her, unmoved, solid as stone. She met his gaze and bared her teeth.

“Get that thing around her head,” he rumbled out, and she howled, struggling. One of the soldiers hurried behind her and pulled the muzzle tight around  her head. The coarse leather scratched against her skin, the metal cage digging into the bones of her face. She tried to shake her head, but the Major had too tight a grip. The soldier pulled it too tight, and she yelped as it pinched her skin. He still fastened it and looped a lock through the clasp to keep it in place. She screamed in frustration then, lunging up and ramming the metal cage into the Major's face. His head snapped back a little, but he recovered quickly. He grabbed the side of her head and rammed it into his elbow.

While she was stunned, he grabbed her leg and dragged it over to a set of shackles on the ground. The soldier grabbed her other leg and did the same.

“No!” she snarled, trying to get at least one of her legs free. The iron clasped down on her ankle. “No, no!” The Major stood, wiping his face off with his hand. She'd made a deep cut across his face, but he didn't seem concerned. He stared down at her, face impassive. She bared her teeth at him and glared back.

“Major,” a man's voice boomed out. The Major and the soldier snapped to attention, turning to face the door. She looked over as well, growling low in her throat at the newcomer. He was older, gray-haired and muscular. Her instincts told her to bash his head in and run, but she couldn't get her hands free from the shackles.

“General,” the Major greeted as he saluted. The soldier hurried to do the same.

“Thought I put her in a cell,” the General said sharply.

“She broke out when the men guarding her opened the door to check on her,” the Major reported.

“Where are they now.”

“One is in the infirmary, she killed the other.” The General stood in front of her, standing straight and tall and glaring down his nose at her. She snarled at him.

“And how did she do that.”

“She tore his throat out.” The General grimaced, reaching down to touch the muzzle around her face.

“You were right to muzzle her then. Wild dogs should be muzzled.” He crouched down in front of her, fingers biting into her jaw. “I should have known those crazy assholes in the mountains would raise a wild dog for their goddess.” She spit on him through the metal cage. Using the slack in her hands, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a headbutt. The Major grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. Recovering, the General delivered a swift strike to her throat.

She choked, unable to get any air in her lungs for a long moment. The General stood and wiped the blood off his face.

“Soldier, get rid of that slack in the chain!” The soldier scrambled to a crank along the wall and turned it. The gears wrapped the chain around a cylinder, dragging her arms up over her head. She coughed and forced herself to breathe again, looking up at her hands in panic. There was hardly any slack left, and even with what she had she couldn't do anything with it.

The solider pulled it tight enough to stretch her arms and pull her whole body taut.

“Stop,” the General ordered. Girl tried to pull her arms down, but she couldn't get the chain to loosen at all. Growling, she shook herself from side to side as much as she could. He narrowed his eyes at her. He grabbed the hair at the top of her head and kneed her in the chest. She thought she felt something crack a little and gagged, shock making bile rise in her throat. He let her go and she sagged forward, choking. Her arms burned from the strain, and pain stabbed through her chest with every breath.

“Dogs should be taught to behave,” he hissed into her ear, and she snapped her head around to catch him with the metal cage of the muzzle. He jerked back and kicked her in the stomach. “Damn little bitch! Do you have any idea who I am!” She leaned forward and gagged, mouth burning from stomach acid. He kicked her again and again, alternating to hit her in the side and the head. She hunched her shoulders and tried to protect her face.

“Well dog!” he barked, kicking her in the chin. “I asked you a goddamn question!” She jolted back from the impact and glared up at him, baring her bloody teeth. The General glared down at her, turning to look at the soldier by the crank.

“Turn that crank soldier!” The soldier did as ordered, grabbing the handle and turning it. The chain wound around the cylinder, pulling her hands higher and higher. The strain burned as they chain stretched her arms too much. She grit her teeth, trying to put up with the pain and squeezing her eyes shut against it. The soldier kept going, and she had to arch her back to keep her shoulders from dislocating. Sharp, tearing pain raced down one of her arms and she cried out, unable to help it. She was trembling, tears burning her eyes and body starting to shake from adrenaline.

The soldier turned the crank again. She almost screamed.

“Stop,” the General ordered. He sounded calmer. The soldier stopped, but the chain locked in place and wouldn't give her arms any kind of relief. Girl gasped in pain, panting and trying to keep tears from falling down her face. She tried to breathe, empty her mind of everything, let her body absorb the pain. Pain was just something for her to feed on, something for her to consume and use to fuel the fire in her core, her soul. She felt so much pain, and she had to make it hers or it would sear her into ash. This pain was hers. It was _hers_.

She hissed through her teeth, finally prying her eyes open and glaring up at the General. He crouched in front of her, and she didn't move this time. She just watched him.

“Looks like the dog is finally learning how to behave,” he said calmly. She clenched her jaw and kept herself from baring her teeth again. “Major, how many of my men did this dog kill.”

“Seven, General.” The General chuckled, but there was no humor in his tone.

“She killed seven of my soldiers. Seven of my highly trained soldiers. Do you believe that, Major?”

“Wouldn't have if I hadn't seen it,” the Major said in a flat tone.

“I wouldn't believe it if anyone other than you had told me. I mean, look at her. She's nothing but a wild dog who backs down and pisses itself when someone raises their voice just a little.” Her eye twitched, and she bared her teeth. The General snorted. “That's right, bare your teeth dog. Can't bite with that muzzle on, can you.” Her hands shook, curling into fists. The General stood in front of her in parade rest.

“Now, you're going to answer me. Understand me, dog?” Girl bared her teeth and twisted, but she didn't have enough room to move at all. She tried to pull up on the chain, but her lower legs were shackled flat to the floor. Trying to pull up only made her legs bend in ways they didn't want to. She had to drop back to the ground as pain spiked up her shins, but jerking down made her arms and shoulders burn.

When she didn't respond, the General kicked her in the stomach. She gagged at the pain.

“Do you understand me, dog,” he snapped. She dragged in a breath, glaring up at him as she shook. “Yes or no, dog.”

“...Yes,” she ground out. She wanted to throw up.

“Good dog.” She bared her teeth at him again, and he squatted down to grab the muzzle. His fingers threaded through the metal cage. He twisted his hand, and she turned with it as much as she could before her neck strained too much. “What is keeping me from snapping your neck and giving those fucking zealots your head in exchange for what I want.”

She spit blood and bile onto his palm, sneering at him. “Bomb.” He shoved her head back and punched her in the throat. She choked, struggling to suck in air. The General pulled his hand back and shook it out with disgust before grabbing the cage again. He shook her head back and forth.

“What _about_ the bomb.” She couldn't get enough air to actually answer him, wheezing and shaking. “What about the bomb!” he roared. Her vision swam with sparkles, darkening around the edges.

“Goes off, I die,” she managed out.

“What was that?” She blinked away the dizziness as much as she could, trying to focus enough to answer. “Explain it to me, damn it!”

“I- tenant,” she gasped. She felt dizzy and sick, almost too nauseous to speak. “If- if someone, kills me, I die, not natural, bomb, bomb goes off, set it off.” The General snarled, tearing his hand away from her muzzle and standing.

“Damn it!” he swore, pacing away from her. Girl tried to catch her breath while he walked away. She spit out a mouthful of blood to clear her airways. The General controlled himself, turning back to her and striding close. She flinched back. He didn't crouch down though, just loomed over her.

“Will they trade it to get you back.”

“Don't know.” He kicked her.

“Will they trade it to get you back,” he ground out. She coughed, gritting her teeth and trying to see through the pain.

“ _Don't know_.” He kicked her again and she twisted, snarling and howling in frustration. He squatted down and twisted a hand in her hair.

“You know they'd trade that bomb for you. You're their 'goddess', right. And they're just stupid and deluded enough to believe you're a real goddess. They'll trade that bomb for you. Tell me I'm right. _Tell me I'm right._ ” He pulled hard on her hair, and she screamed at him. She lapsed back, couldn't form words around the bright hot anger in her mouth. She spit at him again, snarling and screaming and struggling. The General pulled back, wiping his face off again.

“ _Damn_ it,” he growled, pointing the bloody hand to the soldier against the wall. “Turn it again.” The soldier grabbed the crank and turned it, locking it onto the next level up. Girl screamed at the feeling, body pulled too taut and a deep ache settling into her bones. The soldier stopped there at least. She panted, settling into the pain again.

_It's just pain_ , she told herself. _Just pain, just like every pain. It's just pain. Devour it. Make it yours again._ She hissed through her teeth, ignoring the tremble in her limbs and glaring up at the General. He took deep breaths, collecting himself.

“They'll trade that bomb for you,” he said at length. He turned to her, and there was something horrible in his eyes. Something worse than what he'd already put her through. She bared her teeth, more a fear response than any actual attempt at intimidation. He stood in front of her, staring down at her with that horrible look in his eyes. Then he pulled a knife from its sheath on his belt.

Her eyes snapped to the blade, and she hissed at it. The General's eyes flared with a sick sort of pleasure.

“Major, hold her.” She struggled, trying to pull away, but there was nowhere to go, no way she could move anywhere. The Major grabbed her head, yanking her back and wrapping an arm across her throat. He held her flush against his chest, giving her no room to move. The General squatted in front of her. He flicked out the knife and pushed up her shirt. She'd tied the tank top into a knot under her breasts to hold them in place. It left her stomach completely bare, all her scars visible.

“Disgusting,” the General said, tracing the tip of his knife over one of the scars. She flinched away from the touch. “You let those fucking fanatics eat you alive. Did you let them fuck you too?” He looked up at her, voice filled with a perverse cruelty.

“I bet you spend yours days with your whore legs spread open, letting them fuck you whenever they want. Maybe I should let them identify you through the taste of your cunt.” She hissed at him. He didn't break eye contact with her. “What do you think, Major. Should I send them a bottle of taste from her cunt.” The Major didn't respond. A small part of her was grateful that at least he wasn't making it worse. She bared her teeth at the General, staring into his eyes.

“No,” he finally said. “No, I won't do that. Can't risk it. Maybe they just fucked you, never tasted you down there. I'll give them something I know they'll recognize the taste of.” Dread settled deep in the pit of her stomach. He looked over her shoulder at the Major.

“Hold her still.” The Major let go of her hair, wrapping his other arm around her just above her stomach. He pinned her back against his chest. The General dropped his eyes to her stomach, bringing the knife closer. She hissed and tried to buck against the Major's grip. Stretched out and pinned, she couldn't move an inch. The General pressed the blade against her skin and drew a superficial circle with the point. He made sure to eclipse one of the scars.

Then he cut in. Girl jolted, gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut.

_No. It's just pain. It's just pain, it's just pain, it's just-_ He kept cutting, and it felt like teeth, it was teeth, biting and sawing into her, taking more and more and more of her and she had so little left to give, she'd _started_ with so little-

_This is my sacrifice_ , rancid rotting breath washed over her face, twisted yellowed teeth gnashing together in a cutting smile, red teeth with her blood, sweet voice like he was so wonderful, so enlightened, so perfect, but his teeth were biting into her skin, her flesh, biting and sucking the wound like he was suckling from her, sucking the life and essence from her, taking away from her matter, fading her out of existence and she-

_Praise the goddess, we are humble before her, she is-_ burning with pain and sobbing and they're all gathering around her to feast, lapping up the blood like pigs and looking blissful and devoted while she screams, begs them to stop, begs them to stop scraping her away from the world-

_I am nothing, I am pain, I devour it, pain fuels me, fuels the fire that burns so hot and bright inside of me, burns so much that if my body weren't here to contain it, it would burn the world again. I am fire, I am pain, I am anger, this is nothing but pain, nothing but pain, this is-_

But it wasn't just pain, it was stealing her, suffocating the flame by taking away its room to breathe, she couldn't breathe, it was happening all over again, time and time again she got away, fled, cut herself to ribbons trying to escape, and _every time_ they stole her back, teeth biting into her flesh and swallowing her down, scraping the meat off her skeleton, it was happening _again_ -

She couldn't help it. She tried to be brave, to keep it in, but tears stung her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, and she cried out. She couldn't move or struggle.  All she could do was scream and cry. Her shaking hands pulled uselessly at the chains as the General cut away a large, round chunk of her flesh.

He severed it from her completely, and her cries dropped to helpless sobbing. He held the flesh up.

“Not sure I've ever made a line that straight.” The Major's arms pulled away from her. She sagged back, the pain in her arms numb now. She gasped for breath and cried. The General grabbed her hair and pulled her forward. “Take a look.” She kept her eyes closed and tried to turn her head away. He shook her roughly.

“I said look.” She sniffled, cracking an eye open to look. Her vision was blurry, and she blinked to clear it. When she saw the piece of meat in his hand, her stomach twisted and rolled in protest. She knew it was a piece of her. She recognized the scar she had mapped out with her fingers countless times. That is, when she managed to touch herself without a wave of revulsion overtaking her. At the same time she felt so detached from it. It looked foreign to her. It looked dead and rubbery, just a slab of meat from some desert creature or someone else. Maybe not even meat at all.

Both feelings made her so nauseous that she had to lean forward as much as she could and heave. She looked, both detached and horrified, at the missing circle of skin on her stomach. It was just a red void of blood, the bumps and grains of muscle wetly reflecting some of the light in the room. Blood welled up and dribbled down to soak into the waistband of her pants.

_I can't do this_ , she thought. Tears ran down her nose to collect at the tip, and snot ran down over the top of her lips.

“You'd think she'd be used to this,” the General said carelessly. Even utterly exhausted, she hated that man with every possible fiber of her being left. Even her missing pieces ached with phantom hate.

The General crossed to the door, calling over another soldier. He dropped the flesh into his hands.

“Send this out to those religious nut-jobs. Tell them to be at the mediation zone in two days to trade the bomb for their goddess.” The soldier saluted and disappeared. “And send someone up from medical. I don't want this bitch dying before those fanatics can see she's still alive. Fucking crazies, detonating a bomb if some girl dies.” Girl tuned everything out, hanging against the chains and just existing hollowly. She wanted to drift away and never come back.

_Max_ , her mind thought, a thin, fragile hope. _I want to be with Max. I want to be with Max. I want Max. Max._ She let herself slip into unconsciousness.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, the school vampire bit me on the neck. Sorry I haven't been posting more regularly, hopefully I'll get more chapters up soon!

_ It didn't take long to find the militia outpost. Hell, he already knew where it was, it was up near the settlements in the northeast. He just had to go north, past the ridge where he'd met Girl, lean east until he hit the mountains, then circle around until he could see the settlements and the base. So finding it wasn't the issue here. _

The issue was getting _into_ the base. Finding a good vantage point, Max camped out and watched the base through his binoculars. It was well protected. Patrols of two or three men checked the perimeter every ten minutes. Snipers kept watch in a nest on top of the main building. As far as Max could see, they were all wearing full combat gear and were well equipped. He'd seen that from his run-in with them at the trading outpost though. He knew that already, and it didn't do a damn thing to help him now.

Well-fed, full-life soldiers, in what looked like an actual military base. Barracks, armory, garage, barred fence with barbed wire at the top....

Max sat back and rubbed his mouth with his hand. If you ignored the copious use of scrap metal and junk, it was like seeing something right out of the old world. It might have impressed Max, if he hadn't needed to breach the damn place.

He couldn't see anything explicitly marked for prisons. Either they were holding her in a building that doubled, or they'd dug underground. Max was willing to bet on the latter. It was easier to seal prisoners underground if they got out of hand than surround and fight their way into a building they needed.

Sighing, Max ran his hands through his hair and tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do. He was one person. He had a haphazard array of weapons, a bum knee, more injuries than he cared to count, and a half-deaf right ear. He wasn't even sure why he was doing this. He didn't know the girl and he didn't owe her anything. Hell, he'd already done more for her than most people would have. The only reason he was even up here was the selfish desire to fend off his own ghosts a little while longer.

 _Damn it Max,_ he hissed to himself, dropping his forehead onto the sandy rock he was lying on. _What the hell am I thinking? Fucking-_ He looked back up, picking up his binoculars again. He watched the base and let the gears of his brain turn over, hoping in vain that some sort of plan would start to build. Even just pieces of a plan. Even something outlandish would be nice.

_I'll just will my car to start flying and drive down and pull her out of the dirt like a half-buried rock._

Okay, something _less_ outlandish would be nice.

Movement caught his eye, and he tracked it down to the gate – the only entrance, of course. A car with a white flag affixed to the top was getting geared up to go out. It was small and fast, meant to send messages rather than fight. They still hung two guards off the back and stuck another in the passenger seat. A soldier handed the driver a wrapped package, which he tucked between the two front seats.

 _Telling the Redeemers they have their goddess_. He didn't have any proof, but it's what his instincts insisted on. It made sense; they had the girl, they wanted to trade her for the bomb, they had to tell the Redeemers about the trade. Which meant the wrapped package was proof that they had her.

Max felt a horrible, sick lurch in his stomach at the thought of what that proof would have to be. She had a few identifying characteristics. Her tattoos were the most obvious, but all the Redeemers had tattoos as far as he had seen. Her hair was next, but the General had no guarantee her hair would be unique enough to identify by. What she _did_ have that he was sure the others didn't were-

Bite marks.

Clearing his throat and trying not to throw up, Max pushed the thought away and focused. The girl had to still be alive. He _hoped_ she was still alive. The package didn't look big enough for her head, and she'd have told them her death would detonate the bomb. She was a survivor, would do or say whatever kept her alive. She was alive, and they hadn't made the trade. They would though. It would be somewhere they had control, but where they knew the Redeemers would meet them.

Neutral ground.

Best bet was where their territories met, or wherever they were closest. Territory lines were a fickle thing though. Unless someone put up an actual fence, it was best just to eyeball it and keep well away. As far as Max knew, the Redeemers had everything northwest of the ridge. The militia had everything east. That left an awful lot of area for them to set up a neutral ground. Trying to predict it was too risky, so the best option was to-

Wait.

Max seethed, scratching at his temple. There was a small strip from where that shot from Furiosa had grazed him. The bullet had been hot enough to burn a trail onto his skin without even touching it. It itched when he was irritated, and he was irritated enough now to dig his fingernails in.

He didn't _want_ to wait. He wanted to _do_ something. He wanted to plan, set up, prepare. He wanted to do more than just _sit_ here, check  his weapons, wait for the militia to leave for the trade. That could be anywhere from a few hours to a few days.

Any amount of time they had Girl was too long for Max. Any amount of time _anyone_ had her was too long.

But showing his hand too early, trying to storm the base, would be stupid and suicidal. He'd get killed or captured – probably killed, they didn't have a reason to keep him – and then no one would try to save her. Or maybe they would, but not in a way she would see as 'saving'.

So for both their sakes, Max had to wait. Sighing, Max rubbed his temple again and pulled away from the edge. Damn it. Fucking damn it. He crawled back down the little cliff he'd found, careful not to raise his head and be seen. He'd parked his car close to the rocks and hidden under a tarp. Stepping down onto the top of his car, his hands tightened on the rock as the movement pulled on his wound.

He hissed. Holding still, he negotiated one hand low enough to make sure the stitches hadn't popped out. It was a lucky thing the ones in his hand hadn't. He felt over the wound, made sure it was all in place, then slowly slid down off his car. Hell. Maybe some rest wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Max checked his guns, making sure they were all loaded and easy to grab. He put the spare bullets within reach too. He changed his bandages next. Making sure they were tight and secure, he began working to get more sand out of the engine. It was something to do, and he was careful not to exacerbate his wounds while he did it. He kept an ear out for cars.

A couple hours later, he heard the telltale rumble of an engine echoing across the desert. He closed the hood of his car and climbed back up, crawling on his belly to get to the edge of the cliff.

The truce car was back, it and the men still in tact. The General and the big black man from before met them as they pulled in and the gate closed behind them. Someone else drove the car back to the garage while the four soldiers saluted and gave their report. Max couldn't read their lips from so far back, but at least they were angled towards him so he could see their faces. He couldn't see anything wrong from their expressions. Squinting a little, Max tried to get a sense of what they were saying.

The Redeemers likely wouldn't want to wait to make the trade, even if it was for their prophet. They would discuss it – well, probably. He didn't actually know the hierarchy of the religion or who was in charge and what their stance was.

 _Shit. Should have asked Girl about it when we were on the road together._ If – _when_ he got her back, he needed to rectify that. Hopefully it wouldn't be necessary. He intended put her in his car and drive far the hell away from this damn valley as soon as he got hold of her again.

Regardless of the religion, they'd want their goddess back in exchange for anything. He bet that included their prophet. The General didn't look angry and the soldiers didn't look to be explaining anything. Max figured the Redeemers just wanted to up whatever the deadline was. Which, both good and bad. Good because less time to wait around, leave Girl with the militia. Bad because it could be more frantic, uncertain, less time for Max to work out what he was going to do.

 _What are you going to do, General._ It was late, well into the night. Max doubted they would try anything when it was dark, even if it the Redeemers couldn't see either. Sure enough, the General nodded and dismissed the soldiers. They saluted and went to the barracks. The General and the Major went back to the main building. No one else was moving or suiting up, just going about their usual business. Still, Max kept watch for another hour before moving back to his car.

If they weren't going now, it was safe for him to sleep for a bit. He couldn't risk sleeping in his car and missing anything. He just grabbed his blanket and crawled back up onto the cliff, wrapping himself up and settling down. If any cars started moving around, he'd hear them.

All there was to do for now was settle down and rest a bit. Giving the base one last look over, Max fell into a light, uneasy sleep. He dreamed of horrifying and brief images. Splendid going under the wheels of Bigfoot, Girl eaten alive or on her knees in the sand. Fire burning them both alive and searing them to the bone.

He jerked awake early in the morning, just as the sun was starting to tint the sky. A painful mix of instincts, trauma, and the sounds of engines startled him out of sleep. Snorting and grumbling a little, Max groped around for the binoculars and focused on the base. A convoy was gearing up, almost every car in the base it looked like. They loaded up weapons along with soldiers. It looked like the General was going all out for the trade off. Which, fairly unsurprising.

Max shook off the last dregs of sleep and focused. They were organizing soldiers and weapons, sending a few cars on ahead. Grinding his teeth a little, Max considered his options. He could follow the scouts and keep enough distance that they wouldn't notice him. It was still dark out. If he drove quietly, he could follow them and find a good vantage point wherever they stopped.

Except, he wanted to wait and see if they brought Girl out. He wanted to know which car they put her into, see that she was still alive and okay. Maybe she would break free and need his help getting away. Maybe he could drive down and pick her up before the militia got hold of her again and they could avoid all this mess.

 _There's no way she can get away enough for me to get to her in time._ Seeing which car she was in wouldn't help him. He couldn't try attacking them while they were driving, they outnumbered and outgunned him. If she couldn't help him from inside the car, he had no way of getting her. He had to wait until they stopped and got out.

Which meant he had to get to the mediation zone before them and scope things out. He'd have to leave now if he wanted to make it there in time.

Hissing through his teeth, Max gave the base one last look before pulling off and crawling back to his car. He needed to think to get them out of this alive, to plan. He had to trust that they wouldn't kill Girl and plan around it.

He climbed into the Interceptor and started the engine. He tried to run unnoticed as he drove along the ridge, lights off and keeping an eye on the scouting cars. They were trying to be just as stealthy, engines quiet and no headlights. Max watched them from his vantage point. Quick, dark shadows racing along moon-bleached sand. They weren't hard to follow.

Max tracked them along the ridge for a while, having to drive down into the actual valley after a bit. He couldn't keep too close, but they were driving straight and leaving tracks in the sand. The sky was starting to lighten when the scouts split up, spreading out into a loose semi-circle. They went a fair distance from each other, and Max hung back along a dune to watch.

They spaced themselves out and took vantage points along a series of ridges and hills. They parked further back to hide their cars, then hiked the rest of the way up. The closest pair was just up on a dune, hidden from people on the other side – and the other soldiers.

Max gauged the distance and the best route to take before sliding back to his car on his belly. He could park a bit from their cars, go up and take them out, then drive his car up closer – which is exactly what he did. It surprised him how easy it was to keep his car hidden and sneak up the dune. The soldiers were more concerned with facing and paying attention to the west instead of the east. Max even got to lay behind them and listen for any code they might use to check in.

He took out the one closest to him, arm muffling any of the soldier's noises as he pulled him into a sleeper hold. The soldier struggled, but Max locked onto him and kept him from being able to move too much. Once he was unconscious, Max moved to the next one. He clipped the radio to his belt, tied the two up, and dragged them down to the dune to their car. He stripped it – and them – of supplies before shoving them into the backseat. It was their best chance for someone finding them, and it was about as merciful as Max was feeling at the moment.

He drove his car close and tossed the supplies into the back. Clearing out the front seat as much as possible, he left the driver's side door open and facing the dune. He wanted to be able to get in and drive as fast as possible.

It was light now, and Max sorted through his guns. He strapped two pistols around his waist and slung a fully loaded rifle over his shoulder. He kept a shotgun in his hand. Most likely he wouldn't need to use anything other than the rifle, but he'd rather have more than he needed.

Max could hear engines from across the sand, and he climbed back up the dune. He settled on his belly in the best spot he could find. The radio on his belt crackled to life.

“ _Payloads and escorts are arriving, hunker down and confirm._ ”

“ _Affirmative._ ”

“ _Affirmative._ ” Max grabbed the radio and cleared his throat before clicking it on.

“Affirmative,” he muttered, trying to sound like one of the soldiers.

“ _Affirmative. Lock and load._ ” Max settled down and made sure he had a shot chambered before he grabbed his binoculars.

_Please be okay Girl._

 

~

 

“Wake up maggot.” Girl jerked, blinking to try and clear the sleep from her eyes. The soldier standing over her kicked her in the stomach, and she winced. She was getting used to the pain, though she'd spend most of her time tied up dozing as best she could.

“I said wake up!” She pulled her head up to show that she was awake and listening. “We're heading out.” He pulled out a set of keys. The metal jingled together as he undid the shackles on her wrists. She didn't try to brace herself, so as soon as the shackles unlocked she fell forward flat on her face. Her whole body ached from the sudden release, and blinding pain radiated up from the hole on her stomach.

She blinked at her wrists, pulling them close to her face to look at. The shackles had rubbed them raw, and the ends of her fingers were numb from lack of blood flow. The soldier undid the bindings on her ankles next. Girl hissed as she tried to pull her legs up, stretch them out, at least move them around a little. Everything hurt. Everything hurt a _lot_.

“Get those handcuffs, I want her hands behind her back.” She growled, but it came out as more of a groan than anything else. She tried to curl over her arms. It was completely pointless though. She had no energy and no strength left to defend herself. The soldier grabbed her arms, yanking them out from under her body and behind her back. They rebound her wrists. It was a bit looser than before, so that was an improvement at least.

“Get her up,” the soldier ordered, and another pair of hands grabbed one of her arms. They hauled her up to her feet, but she couldn't get her legs under her enough to stand. Instead, she dropped her weight and let them drag her. They took her through a warren-like series of tunnels, dragging her up a set of stairs and outside.

Shaking herself awake, Girl forced herself to pay attention to her surroundings. The sun was still rising. It didn't feel like it had been more than a day, so she hadn't been down there for more than a few hours. She was on some kind of base. There weren't many buildings. Considering what they'd done with the prison, there could still be plenty underground.

This wasn't too helpful since they were dragging her towards a car. They'd be giving her back to the Redeemers, assuming it all went well. Knowing anything about the base wouldn't do her any good.

She turned her attention to the soldiers instead. They were all geared up and armed, more organized than she was used to seeing. Too many to count and way too many to fight. She pulled against their arms without real conviction, just to see what they would do. They tightened their hold, but that was it.

 _They're not taking me seriously anymore._ Good. She slumped back down, letting them think she'd given up. The car they were taking her to was just a small four-door, built to be fast more than anything else. A soldier stood beside it, talking to the General and the Major. Girl felt a jolt of hate towards the General. Her feet scrabbled against the ground for purchase out of reflex, wanting to push up and charge. She couldn't get her legs to work properly yet.

“Hold there soldiers.” The two holding her stopped, actually dropping her to the ground to salute. She coughed as she landed hard, rolling onto her side to get her knees under her. The General kicked her onto her back and put his heel on her stomach. She hissed, trying to catch her breath through the pain. The General loomed over her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. He grabbed the cage of her muzzle and shook her head a little until she pried her eyes open to look at him.

“It's almost a shame dog. I would have liked a few more days to break you.” She waited for him to move his hand before she spit on his face. He responded by grinding his heel against her, and she cried out. He leaned closer, breath hot and thick over her skin.

“Once those fucking lunatics hand over that bomb, I will carve you up in front of them and leave you in the desert to rot, you mangy cunt.” He spit on her before straightening up, taking his foot away to kick her in the side. She curled around herself, gasping and trying not to throw up.

“Get her into the car,” he yelled, and the soldiers hauled her up off the ground. The driver hurried to pop the trunk open. Girl caught her breath and waited. She played passive and coaxed them into letting their guard down. They moved around, one grabbing her legs while the other held onto her torso. As they swung her up into the trunk, she yanked one of her legs back and kicked the soldier's face. His nose smashed with a satisfying sound, and he fell back on his ass.

“God _damn_ it,” the General swore, more exasperated than anything else. “Get that goddamn fucking bitch into the trunk before she takes out another one of you idiots or so help me-” The driver jumped in, and she kicked him in the crotch. He choked, then grabbed hold of her legs and shoved her in. He pushed her onto her stomach to keep her from struggling and slammed the trunk door shut.

Girl seethed, working to roll over and lay on her back. Of course, that put strain on her arms, and she ended up on her side. There was enough slack to get her hands under her feet again, but moving around aggravated her wound. Gritting her teeth, she squared her shoulders and drew her knees up to her chest. She arched her back and worked her hands down under her feet, gasping in relief when she got them in front of her.

She panted as she slumped back against the floor of the trunk. Everything hurt so much she felt sick, stomach churning with the need to throw up. She managed not to though. Lying in the trunk of a car, she had no idea where they were taking her or how long it would take. If she threw up now, she'd have to lie in it for who knows how long. So she swallowed, willing the nausea down, and took several deep breaths.

She heard muffled yelling just outside the trunk and kicked it petulantly.

 _Sons of bitches_. Someone slapped the trunk twice, either checking it or responding to her kick in kind. The engine started with a roar. The car vibrated as it sprang to life, and she closed here eyes against the new wave of nausea.

_Bastards, fucking bastards, stupid vile dumb, hate, wastes, deserve to rot, wish I could tear your throats out, leave you in the sun, watch you rot, watch you, waste you, fuck you, goddamn fucking bastards, hate you, kill you, hate-_

The car lurched to life, and she braced against the trunk's door. She hissed and started feeling around, getting a sense of the dimensions.

It wasn't too tall, the side of her arm just brushing the top if she lay on her side. It was wide enough that she had a bit of room to move around if she lay on her back. There was nothing in the trunk, nothing but the sand that was everywhere. She shifted forward to the trunk door and rolled onto her side, fingers feeling it over. Locking mechanism, a bit old but functional. Too old for a trunk release, or they'd taken it out. Same with the trunk release cable when she pulled up the flooring.

Hissing, she felt around her head for the brake lights. It would take some maneuvering to kick it out, then turn back around to actually see out the hole. At least she would have some light and actually be able to watch something. It was better than lying around doing nothing.

She found the wires for the lights and yanked them out, feeling for how loose it was. Then she took a deep breath and started moving. It hurt, but nothing had stopped hurting so it wasn't anything new. She managed to get herself turned around and felt around with her foot before starting to kick.

 _Fucking bastards, fucking fucking bastards, tear your throats out, make you waste, rot, hate you, hate, I am pain, I burn, I burn forever, I'll burn you up, I'll burn you all up with me, burn you, burn you all._ The brake light gave and she started the process of twisting herself back around. The wound on her stomach seared with pain and she had to stop to keep from throwing up.

_I am pain, give me pain and I will consume it, it will only make me burn brighter I will tear out your_ **fucking throat** _you damn old son of a bitch –_

She took a deep breath and finished turning herself around, settling on her side and sidling up to the hole. The bright light hurt. Her eyes were still adapted to the darkness, and she shielded her face until she adjusted.

There wasn't anything to see even when she did get used to the light. She couldn't see the base anymore. The other cars in the convoy weaved around so she only got glimpses of them. She counted the ones she could see and the soldiers in them, memorizing the numbers. If she got a chance to escape....

Unlikely. At least she'd be a semblance of prepared though. One of the other drivers noticed the missing brake light and drove around to yell at her driver. She could hear him yelling, but nothing discernible. Well, crap. He didn't stop though, and the car fell back to where she could see it.

She sighed through her nose and settled back. It could be a long drive. Lying awake doing nothing but seethe wouldn't help anything. Her anger still bristled under her skin, burning in her core, but it had started to hurt now. Actually, it had been hurting for a while, low enough to ignore but constant. She was exhausted, tired of being so angry all the time. And it _was_ all the time. The only time it had ever pulled back, even a little, was with

 _Max_.

She curled around the light, eyes open as she drifted off. Max. Max was the only person she'd ever met who didn't make her feel anger, hate, or pain. Well, he _had_ made her feel pain, but only because she'd tried to bash his head in with a rock. He'd shown her actual kindness. He'd saved her from falling down that hole and dying. Saved her again from the Redeemers when he could have just let them take her. He'd listened to her when she told him not to go west, warned her about the militia and even tried to keep her from them. He was the only person she'd ever met who hadn't tried to eat her or cut off a piece of her.

 _I want to be with Max._ She sniffled, rubbing her eyes. The muzzle kept her from being able to rub her nose. Maybe he was still alive. Maybe if she got away, she could find him.

_If I want to get away, I have to do it before they make the trade. Once the militia has Ivan-_

Her stomach lurched a little at the thought of Ivan. It was silly, even unreasonable, but she thought of Ivan as a friend. Her only friend, actually. When she had freedom to move around the compound, she'd go to the worship chamber after dark and sit with him. She could talk to Ivan without worrying. With Ivan, she didn't have to worry about her words getting back to Wild. She didn't have to worry about smiling, passive faces twisting her words around.

 _Goddess, we love and revere you. We don't understand why you would ever want to leave us, but some things are beyond our understanding. We know that. And we know you love us, you love your Redeemers. You are our goddess._ And she could scream as loud and as hard as she wanted, but they just kept on smiling and it made her so _fucking_ sick –

Ivan never did that though. He just listened and absorbed everything.  He couldn't offer anything but something solid to lean into – often, that was more than enough. She would talk, sometimes trace the layers of paint, drawings, and carvings. People's names, hand prints, designs of the different castes, questions, statements, blasphemy, love notes, layer after layer of history. It almost helped, made her feel less surrounded by monsters and more by the lost and misguided.

Didn't help enough. She loved Ivan though, as much as it was possible to. Sometimes, she thought he was just as tired of the world, tired of all the fire and burning, the pain and fighting. He didn't want people to worship or revere him, and he certainly didn't want them to use him as a deterrent. He'd never want to go with the militia.

 _What am I supposed to do Ivan? I can't stop them, I'll barely be able to escape myself – if I can escape at all. They might even kill me. If I can't escape, they'll kill me. They'll kill the Redeemers once they have you. You don't want that, I know you don't. You know what the Redeemers are doing is wrong, but you don't want them to die. I'm sorry Ivan. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do._ She curled close to the hole, resting with her eyes wide open and staring out at the sand.

_I'm scared Ivan. What do I do. What do I do?_

She didn't know how much time passed. She dozed for brief snatches, jerking awake whenever the vibrations of the car shifted. It wasn't much, but it was much better than sleeping chained up.

She felt when the car slowed. It pulled up to a stop with the rest of the convoy, and she pushed herself all the way to the back of the trunk. It would give her the best advantage for when they tried to get her out.

_I don't know what to do Ivan. I don't know what to do, I'm sorry, I don't know what to do. All I can do is try to run. I'm sorry. All I can do is try to run._


End file.
